


And They Humor His Desires (With Pleasure)

by greyscalemuse



Series: Sherlock Holmes Has Two Soldier Boyfriends [7]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Aftercare, Brief moments of mental instability, But with sex, Comeplay, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, John and James just wanna take care of Sherlock, Joltolock, Like a lot of comeplay, Lingerie, Lingerielock, M/M, Multi, Multiple times, On Multiple Surfaces, Polyamory, Porn with Feelings, Rope Bondage, Sex Tapes, Sherlock is filthy, Sherlock is very needy, Some angst, They love each other, Threesome - M/M/M, Voyeurism, actually everyone is filthy, deductive science, dirty dirty dirty, dom/sub elements, everything ends happy and satisfying, more tags to be added later, potentially triggering dream sequence - please check author notes, sexy interrogation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-14
Updated: 2017-02-21
Packaged: 2018-08-08 15:28:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 21,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7763203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/greyscalemuse/pseuds/greyscalemuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a long stretch with nothing, Sherlock wants just about everything. And John and James are happy to give him just that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The One With the Lace

**Author's Note:**

> Guys. Thank you so much for sticking with my filthy gross trash so far. This is my thank you.
> 
> See that? *points to the multiple chapters* Yeah. This thing is going to be huge. See - I had several very similar ideas. So instead of stretching them across multiple parts and trying to cram them all into one, I've decided that the smartest way to break this thing up was by making it three chapters. So far? It's already the longest thing I've ever written. So Enjoy!
> 
> As always - No Beta, No Britpicking, and minimal proofreading. I'm just shoving this thing out into the world.

James quirked an eyebrow as he caught Sherlock looming nearby in the corner of his eye. He smiled, cleared his throat and spoke, “About time you woke up. It’s past one in the afternoon.”

“What are you doing?” Sherlock shifted a few half steps closer, craning his neck a little as he flexed his fingers slightly. “And where’s John?”

“I am trying to unpack some of these boxes. They’ve been sitting here for weeks and you’ve been pointedly ignoring them,” James remarked as he stood up, stretching a bit, his joints cracking from staying stagnant for too long. He strode past Sherlock and headed to the kitchen, turning his head to see his lover shuffle close behind. “And John is at work.”

“Work?”

James held up his hand to cut off the inevitable ‘without me’ and elaborated, “His work, Sherlock. He got that job at a nearby surgery, remember? For when you aren’t getting paid?”

Sherlock only frowned, leaning up against kitchen chair, gripping the back of it and looking downward at the tabletop. “But I have enough money to support us. It’s not necessary.”

“You know how he is…” James stepped away from the stove, abandoning his original task of making tea before he took Sherlock by the hips and kissed him lightly, “It’s just something to keep him busy. You can’t keep him still for too long. He’s as bad as you.” He pecked Sherlock’s growing pout, tilting his head curiously at the way Sherlock’s teeth scraped against his bottom lip as he pulled away, as if the other man was automatically trying to draw James into something much deeper.

“But what if I need him?” Sherlock almost whined, and James just smiled.

“He gets off of work around five,” he snorted when Sherlock rolled his eyes, a soft ‘boring’ puffed out in a short exhale. “In the meantime, can I make you some tea?”

Sherlock pressed his teeth against the corner of his bottom lip while it jutted out. “I’m not really interested in tea…” he trailed off as James stepped away and back to the stove before following close at his heels. He wrapped his arms around James’ middle, pressing his nose against the back of his neck. James smirked a bit as he placed his palms on either side of the stove and dropped his head.

“Is there something you want, Sherlock?”

“Bored.”

“Okay, and?”

Sherlock lifted his head and tipped it back, wrinkling his nose. “When was the last time we had sex?”

James huffed out a laugh and shook his head. “Not since we left the hotel. We’ve been too busy moving into here and you had several cases… this has been your first lull in work in five weeks. Are you saying your horny, Sherlock?”

“I’m saying I’m bored.”

“In other words, you’re horny.”

Sherlock took a half step back so James could turn to face him and shifted from one foot to the other before he pressed himself back against James, lips hovering over the other man’s before he gritted out a short, low “bored” with an extra emphasis on the hard consonant sounds. James chuckled before he closed the centimeters worth gap. Their mouths met in a languid reunion of lips – the likes they hadn’t shared in ages – drawn out as their tongues dawdled against one another until they memorized each others’ taste of toothpaste, morning coffee, and toast. James’ hand slid up the hem of Sherlock’s thin tee shirt where the feel of warm skin was interrupted by delicate patterned fabric, soft to the touch. James’ eyebrows shot up before he pulled up Sherlock’s shirt by the hem, eyes dropping to his hips. He let out a low whistle, the corners of his lips curling a little before he tilted his head.

“And what is this?”

“Do you like it?”

“I can’t decide. Why don’t you show me the rest?”

Sherlock pinked a little, dropping his chin before he shrugged off his dressing gown and draped it across the back of the chair. James leaned back against the counter, his tongue swiping at his bottom lip as he watched Sherlock pull his shirt over his head. As he pushed down his pajama bottoms, James pushed himself up to full posture, reaching out and gently cradling Sherlock’s hips with the tips of his fingers, flexing the ones of his good hand to press against the floral lace pattern that adorned the silky garter belt. The straps pulled tight across Sherlock’s thighs and clipped to the top of thigh high lace stockings that clung to his shapely legs beautifully. All of this was paired with a pair of delicate black lace panties that barely covered Sherlock, the very tip of his erection peeking over the edge of them as they hugged close and low on his hips, the scant piece of fabric barely covering Sherlock’s shapely arse.

James could hear himself swear under his breath, the expletive hissing from between his teeth. He cleared his throat and took one step to close the gap between him and Sherlock, then one more to back Sherlock up against the table. He watched Sherlock swallow and cast his eyes downward for a moment before clearing his throat.

“Did I… misjudge your attraction to this?”

James shook his head as he swiped two fingers across the front panel of the panties, tracing along Sherlock’s length before rubbing the tip with the pad of his thumb. He smirked at the soft gasps that Sherlock tried to bite back. “You did not,” he rasped into Sherlock’s ear before his hand dipped inside so James could fondle the other man properly. Sherlock arched his back and groaned James’ name in response. As James cupped his balls, Sherlock melted against him, strongly gripping James’ wrist as he whispered broken words of encouragement.

Sherlock leaned back against the table, gripping the edge as his thighs spread wider and he rolled his hips forward, pressing himself against James’ palm. Sherlock’s hands flew to James’ shoulders when the other man removed his hand. A strangled and desperate ‘No’ escaped him as he pressed the lower half of his body to James’ hip, desperate for contact. He heard James chuckle, an alluring sound that dropped straight to his groin as he started to slid his fingers across the buttons of James’ shirt.

His moan sputtered and hiccupped as James’ questing touch slid down the back of the panties, between his arse cheeks and brushed against the quivering hole which gave way to his finger quite easily. James quirked an eyebrow, before pressing his lips to Sherlock’s hair, speaking into thick dark curls, “Is this what you’ve been occupying your morning with?”

“As… I said… bored,” Sherlock clenched as James added a second finger, his hands sliding up James’ neck and into his hair before he lifted his head and sought out the other man’s lips. “And I really missed you.”

They broke from the kiss and James pressed his lips to Sherlock’s hairline before he ticked off things verbally from his mental checklist.

“Door?”

“Locked.”

“Lube?”

“Dressing gown pocket.”

“Mrs. Hudson?”

“Gone for the day. Don’t ask where. I didn’t want to know myself.”

“Noted. Brilliant.”

 

* * *

 

In a matter of minutes, Sherlock had his ankles pressed against James’ shoulders, the lacy panties hanging off one knee as a series of expletives and filthy encouragement slipped in between moans. The kitchen table creaked beneath his weight as he gripped the edge with white-knuckle intensity. Foreplay was suspended for the sake of urgency, and Sherlock sung praises as James balanced himself above him, pounding into Sherlock, spurred on by the other’s gasps and cries.

“Fuck, James. Fuck. Yes. Hard… harder… oh God,” Sherlock choked on his own voice as James paused, completely sheathed inside him. Sherlock wriggled and squirmed beneath James, bucking his hips as much as he could before he swallowed down a noise of frustration. He extracted one hand and brought it to James’ face, fingers lightly tracing down the scarred flesh along the other man’s cheek. “Arm getting tired?” he ventured and tipped up James’ chin to keep the other from bowing in shame. Sherlock sputtered as James managed a quick, well aimed thrust that hit his prostate in such a way that sent electricity through his nerves. As the sensation fizzled and warmed his limbs, Sherlock couldn’t help his eyes rolling back when James repeated the motion. He fought the urge to let his arms drop, instead pressing them hard to James’ chest, helping anchor the man above him to share a relentless and fierce kiss and giving James a moment to rest his stressed, working arm, as the damaged one took what weight that it could, placing strain on the lower side of his wrist. Sherlock saw sparks flash behind his eyelids with each small movement, and began to whisper nonsense in James’ ear once their kiss broke. “I love your cock, James. It feels so fucking good. How’d I get so lucky? To be fucked by a cock like yours? Guh… God! Fuck!” There was a thud as Sherlock’s head fell back and James hissed through his teeth as a box of various science-related paraphernalia rattled from the impact, though he couldn’t help cracking a smile and fought back a laugh.

“You okay?”

“Yes. Fine. Can you stop torturing me with your grand example of a penis and fucking let. Me. Commmmm… fuck!”

James rearranged them, Sherlock’s legs sliding from his shoulders and falling open, wide and revealing, heels pressing into the small of James’ back. James shook out his good arm and reached down to take Sherlock’s erection in his hand, circling the base with his fingers and sliding them upward to tease the tip with his thumb. Sherlock’s fingers scrambled to find purchase, slipping across the slick surface of the table as James started moving again in full thrusts. Sherlock blinked away the sweat that threatened to fall into his eyes before he fell from the edge towards orgasm, where he’d been teetering for most of the morning. He came hard, ribbons of white painting his upper chest and James’, and he could taste copper from where he’d bit open the inside of his lip. He fell limp, body weighted by exhaustion as he closed his eyes, reveling in the feel of James still thrusting inside him. He let out a groan as James filled him and he struggled up onto his elbows to look down to see James pull out, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip at the sight.

Sherlock lifted his eyes and sat up slowly as James tucked himself back into his trousers. He pulled on his lace panties and slid from the table onto shaky legs before he followed James to the sofa to wrap his arms around him.

James grunted as Sherlock settled in his lap and smiled, sharing a lazy kiss before leaning back and sharing a smile with the younger man. “We haven’t done that in a very long time.”

“Five weeks is a long time, but I don’t know if it constitutes as ‘very’,” Sherlock quipped as he rested his cheek on James’ shoulder.

“Mmm… no,” James kissed the exposed skin of Sherlock’s neck. “I meant with you. Not in sub space,” he held up his hand to quiet Sherlock’s countering question, “That’s not a bad thing.”

Sherlock lifted his head and took James’ good hand in both of his before he started to massage his palm, James letting out an appreciative groan. “I have the presence of mind to know when to stay alert. Sometimes… though. It’s really hard when you’re fucking me so deep.”

“Thought you liked that part,” James teased as their lips brushed past one another.

“I do,” Sherlock insisted as his hands moved up James’ arm, “I really… really do… but… from that position…” Sherlock trailed off and his hands fell away before he looked downwards.

“You couldn’t chance losing yourself when I could lose my balance.”

“You’re a very capable man, James.”

“In my condition,” James tacked on the unspoken, though his voice remained even, never dipping into bitter. “Sherlock. I know my limits. I have to.”

Sherlock nodded before pressing another kiss to James’ lips before he slid them to James’ burn scarred cheek and up to his temple. He pulled back when James’ breath hitched, “I’m sorry, should I not…” His voice trailed before James whispered the okay. He perched himself back on James’ knees and very carefully cradled James’ damaged hand in both of his before pressing his thumbs against the scarred flesh, massaging it much like he had with the other hand. “Can you… feel that at all?”

James smiled and nodded, “If there’s enough pressure, I can feel it. I just… it’s the details I’ve lost. Texture, temperature, light touches…”

Sherlock pushed up the sleeve of James’ shirt before pressing his lips onto the underside of James’ wrist. He placed it gently on his hip and James moved his other hand to mirror the action before pulling Sherlock closer to him and kissing his lips slowly. They stayed like that for long stretches of minutes, sharing long, lovely kisses, until they were both struck dizzy with reverence for each other before James finally broke free from their shared hypnotic state.

“What inspired this, then?” He plucked the garter strap to punctuate his point, the taught bit of flimsy elastic making a very satisfying snap against Sherlock’s thigh. He smirked at the way Sherlock stiffened, the perceived aloof and emotionally distant detective on high sensation alert – if only his public knew how much a farce that was. Sherlock squirmed as he tried to regain his composure, but the flush to his cheeks already spoke volumes. Instead, he cleared his throat, twice, and as he ran his thumbs across James’ collarbones, tried his best to keep his voice even and his face from going from pink to deep cherry red.

“Well… I wanted to propose…” he paused in thought before he swallowed and redirected his approach. “Since John is gone for… another three and a half hours… I thought maybe we could… pass the time…”

“Direct request, Sherlock. What do you want?”

Sherlock chewed at his bottom lip, agitating the raw skin, before he pressed his forehead to James’ and whispered his request, “Fuck me as many times as you can… fill me with your come… before John comes home.”

James closed his eyes and fought back a groan, opting for an appreciative hum in it’s place. “Three and a half hours, Sherlock. You’d be luck if you get one more out of me.”

“We both know that’s not true,” Sherlock insisted as he moved James’ hands to his thighs, letting the other man finger the lace of his stockings. “As I said… you are a very capable man, James.”

 

* * *

  
Roughly forty two minutes later, Sherlock found himself on his side on the floor and running the fingers of his right hand across the rug while the other grasped at his cock, smearing precome across the tip with his thumb. He was gasping so hard his diaphragm felt like it was punching upwards into his lungs. He choked on a sob when James sunk his teeth into the back of his neck, sucking the skin into an angry purple. From this angle, James could comfortably place his weight on his good side, and each slow thrust reached deep, causing Sherlock to loll his head forward each time as the world around him seemed to blur.

He blinked away the sudden burst of white, staring down at the streaks of come that spattered across the intricately patterned rug. He tightened his fist around the short fibers and moaned out James’ name before he slumped forward and pressed his forehead against his knuckles as he tried to draw the air back into his lungs.

He didn’t know how long it took for him to register James was speaking to him, but by gauging the tone of his voice, he assumed it had been between three to six minutes. “Huh?” he huffed out, clearing his throat to dislodge the gritty and rough feeling that seemed to coat it. He closed his eyes as he felt gentle, calloused fingers press against his hairline before slipping into curls, getting tangled there before pulling free.

“I asked if you were okay,” James answered back, nails lightly dragging across the skin of Sherlock’s nape. Sherlock nodded in agreement, his skin stripped down to raw, exposed nerves, sending pulses of sensation at the slightest touch. It left him writhing and gasping when James pulled out slowly, his body clenching as he tried to adjust to the sudden emptiness that threatened to chill him from the inside. He closed his eyes and pressed himself back against the firm touch against the back of his neck. “How many times did my text message alert go off?”

Sherlock hummed and a lazy smile stretched his lips before he slowly rolled to his stomach, his hands carding through his own hair, curls wrapping around his fingers as he exhaled heavily. “I didn’t even notice,” he admitted, pushing himself up onto his elbows and lifting up one leg, bent at the knee. James reached over Sherlock to pick up his phone off the side table. He settled behind Sherlock, fingers briefly tracing the floral pattern on Sherlock’s stockings, before going about checking the four messages that had chimed in. “I assume they’re all from John. Probably bored out of his mind,” he quipped. James chuckled in response.

“Slow day. Bored as hell. What are you up to? Anything interesting?” James read aloud, smiling at the low chuckle emitting from Sherlock’s chest that lightly shook his shoulders. He passed off the phone when Sherlock twisted at the waist and offered his hand, beckoning for the mobile until it was pressed into his palm. James crawled over to straddle Sherlock’s hips and pressed kisses along the lightly freckled skin, tracing it with his tongue as Sherlock read back his response.

“The detective woke up in a mood. Been handling him all afternoon.”

James snorted, “Handling you is right,” the phone buzzed in Sherlock’s hand, “Well?”

“Handling how?” Sherlock hummed as he thought of his reply, reading it off as he typed, “Fucked him twice and he still wants more. Not satisfied unless he has a cock inside him.”

James raised an eyebrow before he snatched his phone back just as Sherlock pressed ‘send’. Sherlock twisted to his back from beneath James, staring up at him with an impish grin. Just as he opened his mouth to speak, his phone buzzed again.

Prove it.

James tilted his head and chewed on his lip before he nudged Sherlock’s side, “Roll back onto your stomach.”

“Why?” Sherlock asked, though he complied to the request none the less.

“He wants proof,” James snapped a pic, biting his own lip at the sight. Sherlock in nothing but a garter belt and stockings, still slick with sweat, laying across their living room floor on his stomach, looking over his shoulder. James handed the phone back for Sherlock’s approval. For a low resolution phone photo, it was framed quite well, stopping where his back curved upwards into the shape of his arse. “Should I send it?”

Sherlock nodded, pressing send for him before he smirked and stretched, setting the phone aside. “I hope he gets that at the most inopportune moment.”

James just smiled before he leaned down and kissed the back of Sherlock’s head, pushing himself up to his feet with a groan. “I’m getting too old to be on the floor like this.” There were a few more grunts and a couple of pops as James stretched. Sherlock turned around on his back and licked his lips in appreciation of James’ physique, eyes raking downward – from broad shoulders and long legs and everything in between. Sherlock moved to his knees, shuffling them across the floor to lay his head on James’ naked thigh as the other man sat down, still completely nude, on the sofa.

“What’s buzzing around in that head?” James asked in a gentle voice, his fingers instinctively twisting into Sherlock’s hair, causing the brilliant man between his legs to shudder, his warm breath skimming across his skin.

“I really liked that position,” Sherlock mused and lifted his head when James sighed a soft portion of laughter. He mused on his next words carefully before he drew himself up a little higher, “I like when you can get deep inside me…” He lifted his head and placed his palms on James’ knees, “I’m truly spoiled.’

James rolled his eyes, his answer cut short when his phone began to ring. He sighed, staring at where it still sat on the side table, out of reach. Sherlock stood without prompting and picked up the phone, tilting his head a bit when he saw John’s name on the caller ID. He answered the phone and passed it to James as he settled in the other man’s lap, pressing his knees against James’ hips. James did a quick check to see who he was talking to before he smirked and answered with a very polite “hello”.

“I’m lucky I checked my phone when there was no one in the room. And when I was sitting down.”

James just smiled, tilting his head back as Sherlock began to kiss down the line of his neck and hummed a bit in appreciation, “He is stunning, isn’t he?”

“What is he wearing? I didn’t get a good look in the photo you sent.”

James tilted his head to the side and close his eyes as Sherlock bit and sucked at the skin along his collarbone, eliciting a quiet groan. “Garter belt and lace stockings,” James answered bluntly before he sucked in a sharp bit of air and cleared his throat when Sherlock began to run his thumbs along James’ nipples. “And he’s been very insistent since he wo-” his sentence was cut short by a kiss while Sherlock pried the phone from James’ grip and placed it on speaker phone just as John replied, voice strained and a little breathy, as if he just finished running after Sherlock in an adrenaline addled chase.

“Insis…” John’s voice cracked and he audibly cleared his throat before he tried to speak again, “Insistent?”

Sherlock teeth scraped across the bottom of James’ chin as the other man’s head fell back. James breathed out a soundless laugh as Sherlock’s fingers laced with his. “Let’s just say John… you’re in for a treat when you get home.” Sherlock reached over with his free hand and ended the call just before James surged forward and caught that bottom lip with his teeth and pulled Sherlock back into a hurried kiss. He pulled various whines and whimpers from Sherlock’s tongue before the other man broke away, head falling back to expose his neck to James’ questing lips.

“What has gotten into you?” James murmured against pale skin and Sherlock just hummed in response before he tugged at James’ hand lightly. James lifted his head and Sherlock lowered his chin, blue-green eyes turned dark and desperate before they fell closed and Sherlock’s head dropped to James’ shoulder.

“Everything, James,” he finally whispered. “I just need it all to go still.”

 

* * *

 

Sherlock’s wrists twisted together, fingers curling over the edge of the desk, his orgasmic cry echoing in his own head as he fell limp against the solid surface, bones going heavy and weighted as his knees sunk downwards. James caught him by the hips, lifting upwards until Sherlock found his feet. He squirmed, thighs shaking from the effort of keeping himself upright as he shifted his weight to his elbows. He head dropped forward at the feel of James’ cock pressing the soft, come soaked fabric of the lace panties up against him, and he pulled against the soft dressing gown sash of satin that bound his wrists in front of him. Every touch made him jerk and arch towards it, and he found himself pushing back against James, craving for that pulsating warmth to drive deeper into him until the world fell silent around him.

“You’re such a greedy thing today, aren’t you?” James pressed a tender kiss on the top of Sherlock’s sweat-soaked curls, sending a violent shudder down Sherlock’s spine.

“James. I’m begging you…” He nodded frantically as James repeated ‘begging’ back to him. “Yes, begging. I’m begging for this…” he pleas of nonsense, got cut short and garbled as James pulled the panties halfway down Sherlock’s thighs. He choked on words and syllables as James seemed to give into his request. “Ye… eeesss!” Sherlock all but squealed, toes curling at the quick swipe of James’ tongue across the sensitive and tender pucker, a finger lightly tracing around it before dipping the very tip of it inside. The muscle gave way easily and Sherlock’s heartbeat thundered in his own head as he tearlessly sobbed, “James! Please!”  
The finger withdrew and in it’s place, was something longer, thicker, and exactly what Sherlock wanted.

James fucked Sherlock hard against the desk, pounding into him with a ferocity that Sherlock encouraged with loud and lewd praises. James good hand pressed firmly down against Sherlock’s left arse cheek, the pads of his fingers pressing so hard there would be a few finger-shaped bruises across alabaster skin.

The first spurt of come shot deep inside him, making his knees buckle again. Each pulse that followed filled him up. As James withdrew, Sherlock struggled to keep from sliding off the desk and to the floor. The world around him fell out of focus, only to be drawn back together by a single touch to his cheek.

“Hey,” James’ voice was soft, gentle, and grounding, giving Sherlock something to focus on aside from the come that dribbled out of him, following a singular path and dripping to the floor. The fingers to his chin prompted him to finally open his eyes – he’d forgotten he’d closed them. “Love,” a soft peck to the forehead. “John will be off work by five. It’s 3:48 now.”

Sherlock stuttered out the shaky time calculation, “Seven… seventy two minutes.”

James smiled as he swiped his fingers across Sherlock’s hair, letting the curls weave between his knuckles before he lightly scratched Sherlock’s scalp, causing the other man to sigh. “So you did get a little lost. How are you feeling?”

“Good..” Sherlock shifted as he sighed out his answer and smiled. “Warm. Well used… perfect.” His breath hitched a the word, but he exhaled through his nose to release the sudden tightening in his chest.

“You sure?”

“Yes,” Sherlock insisted, dropping his face downwards before James could see the lingering doubt. James didn’t press, instead he began to go down the list, checking on Sherlock’s needs. Sherlock denied all of them, but paused at the offer of water. James tilted Sherlock’s chin up slightly and pressed a quick, chaste kiss to his lips, an unusually tender gesture given Sherlock’s position – still bent over the desk, hands bound, panties still around his thighs, with come dripping from his entrance – and it made him blush crimson.

“I’ll bring you some water, at least,” James insisted as he pulled lightly at the sash around Sherlock’s wrists. “Is this rubbing at all?”

“No.”

“Should I undo it?”

Sherlock shook his head and cleared his throat, “I… would rather you didn’t.” James hummed in understanding and honored Sherlock’s request, before detailing his own actions with clarity and precision.

“I am going to go to the kitchen and clean myself up a bit, should I bring a flannel for you?” Sherlock replied with a very clear ‘no’. “Do you need moved at all before I go?” Again, he said no. “Rather stay filthy for John?” Sherlock’s blush spread from his cheeks to his ears and threatened to creep down his neck as he replied with a very quiet ‘yes’. James gently ran two fingers along it, tracing the blotches of scarlet before pressing another kiss just above Sherlock’s right eyebrow. “I will get you your water while I am gone. Would you like me to sing?”

Sherlock nodded at first before answering in a quiet ‘yes, please’ and ran his teeth against his bottom lip in response to the smile that earned him. He lowered his head when James stood to his full height and disappeared from his line of sight, closing his eyes as he heard the soft baritone carry the sweet lyrics to his ears. James’ French pronunciation lacked finesse, but Sherlock forgave the sin for the rich sound of his voice. The sound calmed him, his muscles visibly relaxing. He sank downwards, sliding back a little under the weight of his knees as James’ voice lulled him into a pleasant trance. He jerked from it when his worry from earlier clenched his chest and slammed him back into reality. By then, James was standing in front of him again with a bottle of water.

“You sure you’re okay, love?” He repeated, voice still quiet and gentle, offering a small bit of comfort. Sherlock didn’t speak right away, instead gesturing with his bound hands towards the water. James placed it to his lips and tipped upwards, gently providing the cold, tasteless liquid to Sherlock’s tongue on it’s way to soothe his dry throat. It trailed down his chin and across his cheeks as James pulled it back, screwed the cap back on and set it aside.

Sherlock swallowed a few more times before he finally spoke, his voice small and coarse. “Do you really think I’m greedy?”

James frowned and caught Sherlock’s chin with his fingers again, his thumb swiping across Sherlock’s damp cheek, He pressed his lips in a thin line and shook his head, “Of course not, Sherlock. That was just talk. You should know that…” James circled back behind Sherlock, to sit in the wooden chair that had been kicked aside in their earlier frenzy. He hooked his foot on one of the legs to pull it closer, keeping his hand pressed to Sherlock’s back. “Does it bother you to be called greedy?”

“It didn’t use to.”

“That’s not answering my question, Sherlock.”

Sherlock swallowed again, this time to fight back the tight lump that lodged itself there, that threatened to creep upwards. “Yes. He… he called me that. In the letter.”

“Letter… Montague Street?” James sighed and shook his head, “Oh, Sherlock. I’m sorry. I didn’t even think of that.”

He tried to say it was fine, but instead choked back a sob, the despair that had coiled around him starting to tighten around his chest. He heard James repeat his name in concern before he forced out in a ragged whisper, “He was there.”

“There? Where? The landlord?”

“No…” Sherlock shook his head before dropping it down and biting back another sob that shuddered through him. “There’s… someone else. Someone else wrote that note. The landlord had help. I… I just can’t prove it yet. But he was there. At that bar when we…” Sherlock trailed off and clenched his eyes shut, sucking in another breath. “He whispered something to me as we were leaving. Told me I had to choose but…” He twisted his bound wrists as he clenched his hands into fists, his elbows pressing just below his ribs and making it uncomfortable to breathe. “I can’t choose, James. Don’t make me.”

Sherlock gasped for air when James rushed to lift him off the desk, his voice firm but not chastising. “Sherlock, no one is making you choose. We talked about this already. Why didn’t you tell us someone threatened you?”

Sherlock opened his eyes to James’ face, void of anger of annoyance, creased only with worry and alarm.. Sherlock’s behavior was beginning to frighten him. “I… I couldn’t. I… he was there, James. He… he knew… knew what we did. He could have… That voice… I…” Sherlock’s grasp of language failed as he gave way to the hysterical sobs that drew his entire body tight. He pleaded with James as he tried to undo the sash around his wrists, struggling against the man’s grip. “No.. No! James… this…”

“Sherlock,” James cut through his feverish state, causing him to still. “I’m not undoing this for your sake. It’s for mine. Can you give me that?” He gave a consenting nod, biting at his quivering lip as he did what he could to help James slide the dressing gown sash away from his wrists, freeing his arms. Sherlock, instinctively, wrapped them around James’ shoulders and buried his head into the crook of his neck. James pulled the panties back up over Sherlock’s arse, before teetering back to the wooden desk chair and pulling Sherlock to straddle his lap. He held him tight, his bad arm draped around Sherlock’s waist while his good hand found it’s place, just at the nape of Sherlock’s neck, rubbing soothing circles across the soft hair there. They stayed like that until Sherlock breathing hitched back into a normal rhythm. James broke the silence before it stretched too long and whispered into Sherlock’s ear. “Can you answer me a few questions, love?” Sherlock nodded once in response. “Why do you need this?”

Sherlock shifted slightly in James lap, sitting up and wiping at his face and nose with his hands before he found a piece of scrap fabric (leftover from an experiment involving different synthetic blends of fabric and blood stains) to act as a handkerchief. He paused at the slight quirk of James’ mouth, expecting some kind of comment. When one didn’t come, he set to answer the question. “Because I enjoy…”

James cut him off with a shake to his head, “No, Sherlock. Why do you need this? Why do you need John and I to do what we do to you? Why have we worked out this system?”

That gave Sherlock pause. He opened his mouth and wrinkled his brow before he began to speak, quite slowly. “I need… the stimulus. It… draws me back into transport, stills my mind, and releases me… from bodily desires that would otherwise distract and hinder my concentration. I…” Sherlock bit at his lip again and James reached up to swipe his thumb across it, freeing it from Sherlock’s teeth. “It also gives me sensational data that I find to be useful in understanding my own body.” He exhaled slowly, “I need the extremes that both you and John provide. With your different body types and personalities… I’m able to properly get… caught up in a state of mind that I’m not able to access otherwise.”

“And that’s important to you?”

“Yes.”

James paused in his questioning to nod, looking down. He dropped his hand from Sherlock’s neck to the strap of the garter belt, running his index finger along it. “And why did you come up with this scene?”

“The curtains,” Sherlock blurted out, blinking a few times at the perplexed expression on James’ face. “When we went shopping for curtains for the bedroom… you two insisted I come along…” He waited for a sign of recognition to cross James’ face before he continued. “You showed no aesthetic interest in the lace curtains, yet you continued to touch them.” Sherlock lifted his hand and rubbed his index and middle finger to his thumb, mimicking James’ reaction to the different lace patterns.

“I didn’t even notice…” James mused, tilting his head a little.

“You were always very… tactile. In Afghanistan, I began to wear certain articles of clothing repeatedly because of the way you would touch me…” There was a soft ‘ah’ as James recalled exactly what Sherlock was referring to. “I merely observed which patterns you were most drawn to and matched them to my purchase…”

“So you went out and bought lace lingerie based on my reaction to some curtains.”

Sherlock nodded once, with a quiet ‘yes’ and blushed again at the soft praise that followed.

“And you already knew how John preferred to fuck you.”

“Yes. If he hadn’t made that admission in the hotel, even in my compromised mental state, I could tell the difference between when he went first and when you did…” Sherlock sucked in a breath, “I assumed he wouldn’t be against a more… extreme variant of the situation.”

“I very much doubt he is. Probably snuck off for a quick wank in the loo after that phone call,” James smirked at the tiny little jerk Sherlock’s gave at that, tilting his head at it but deciding not to comment. “What you described to me, Sherlock… is a scene that you based upon John’s and my own preferences. That isn’t greedy.” He pressed his fingers to Sherlock’s lips to silent any kind of protest. “You, Sherlock, are a devoted, brilliant, enthusiastic and gorgeous lover. No matter how much you enjoy the attention we give you – it is always matched by how much John and I enjoy giving it to you. Do you understand?”

Sherlock nodded once before he allowed himself to be swept up in another kiss, his long fingers resting on James’ jawline as the other man invaded his mouth so thoroughly, his breath became lost, as did his focus. After several long, blissful minutes, they broke for air, and Sherlock blinked back his coherence. He let his head fall to James’ shoulder and closed his eyes as that strong touch kneaded at the muscles in his back and downwards, before finally resting on his hip.

“One more thing,” James remarked and Sherlock acknowledged him with a groan. “I will never call you greedy again, but I would like to know what you would like to be called instead,” James paused, pressing his lips just below Sherlock’s ear, “Tell me.” The whisper to his ear was downright salacious, causing the hair on Sherlock’s neck to raise. He wet his lips and opened his mouth to speak as a number of words came rushing forth. He floundered a bit and found that he was blushing so hard he swore he must be almost purple in hue when he finally caught sight of the positively wicked smirk that accompanied James’ request.

He cleared his throat and traced James’ collarbones with his index fingers before he murmured. “I like it… when you call me needy,” James acknowledged that with a quiet ‘uh huh’, and Sherlock shifted closer to him. “Or… dirty…” he sucked in a breath and bit his bottom lip and worried the tender skin a little as he shifted again, “But my favorite… I think… is when you call me your filthy slut.”

The admission made James’ eyebrows shoot up to impossible heights and the chuckle that followed dripped with sin and promise. “Filthy slut? You like that?”

Sherlock shook his head, “No… not… not just a slut… yours. Yours and John’s.”

“Ah,” James nodded in understanding, a mischievous ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips as he leaned in and whispered into Sherlock’s ear again. “So you like being our… slut?” Sherlock nodded enthusiastically in response, unable to contain the shudder that James summoned from the light tracing touches along his spine. “And what about ‘whore’?”

Sherlock shook his head and wet his lips before he answered James’ prompt of ‘why’. “I am not opposed to be called a whore, but it is unfit of a description.” Sherlock pressed himself closer, deciding to purr into James’ ear just as James had been doing in his, his voice pitched deep and low and carnal. “I would be a poor whore who would beg only for your cocks in place of proper payment.”

He sucked in a startled yelp, catching the noise in his throat as he was forced off of James’ lap and to his knees. He obeyed as James commanded him to hold up his hands, placing them together, eyes sparking to life again as his fingers took hold of one end of the sash as it was wrapped around his wrists again. Sherlock slid closer, until James’ outstretched foot stopped him.

“No,” he insisted and Sherlock’s pleas fell to deaf ears as James explained, “You’ve had enough for now. You’re to wait until John gets home,” Sherlock whined in frustration, which only turned into a desperate gasp as he felt James’ toes wriggle beneath his balls, rubbing the panties against the sensitive skin just so. His eyes fixed on James, still gloriously naked and sitting on that wooden chair, forcing Sherlock to stay on his knees, hands curled together in his bindings, lifted in a debauched prayer for mercy. He must have begged aloud without his knowledge, but James only denied him.

“No. You are to wait.”

 

* * *

 

“Holy shit…”

John’s blood was brought to an instant boil before it rushed south at the spectacle he witnessed the moment he stepped into the door. He shrugged off his jacket, dropping it to the floor as he drew closer to the two men in their living room.

Sherlock was on his knees, hands bound and drawn close to his chest, panting and squirming from his own arousal as he eyed the naked man that sat in front of him. James had a firm grip on Sherlock’s hair to keep him at arm’s length, and John watched as Sherlock’s eyes frantically darted from James’ face to the impressive erection between his legs. He’d driven himself almost hoarse from his begging, a soft and gravely ‘please’ repeated like a one word litany searching for a reply. James looked up to see John staring in speechless and reverential lust before he released Sherlock by the hair, catching him quick by the chin and leaning in to instruct Sherlock in a commanding tone that reached the very depth of his vocal range and left Sherlock as compliant as a well-trained pet.

“Stand up and show John.”

Sherlock rocked back onto his feet and slowly stood before turning to face John. He still wore his lingerie of choice, a hole starting to worry away at the knee of his lace stockings, the panties pushed down, resting low on his hips. His skin was flushed and shown with sweat, a few blooming love bites marring the skin along his collar. John stared, slack jawed and stunned as he fell back into his chair, rubbing a hand over his face, but unable to avert his eyes and virtually incapable of formulating a verbal response until James prompted him.

“Gorgeous, isn’t he?” James had stood and steered Sherlock to stand in front of where John was sitting. John looked upwards and exhaled a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

“He… most definitely is,” John took in the sight before him, Sherlock’s erection straining against the near ruined fabric of his panties level to his face. His hands traced along Sherlock’s thighs, fingers deftly undoing the clasps of the garter belt so he could pushed the panties off, letting them pool around Sherlock’s ankles. “Very beautiful,” John pressed his lips to the tip of Sherlock’s leaking cock, pressing his tongue against it in a lewd kiss that made Sherlock squirm. He pulled back, hands resting on Sherlock’s hips before he bit his lip in anticipation and asked, “Let me see?”

Sherlock nodded and turned around, pressing his front to James’ body for support as he bent himself slightly at the waist. John’s questing hands finally fell to Sherlock’s ample arse, pressing his palms against it until he finally parted the two cheeks to expose the hole in between. He let out a low whistle at the evidence of James’ and Sherlock’s activities in his absence. He pressed his thumb against the furled muscle, biting his lip as it gave way easily to just the slightest bit of pressure. Sherlock mewled, hips moving on their own as John swiped his thumb downwards, before bringing it to his lips and sucking at the tip with a slurp.

“James warned me you were filthy but… this…” John shook his head and smiled. There was the soft clatter of his belt buckle, “Have you been craving cock all day, Sherlock?” Sherlock closed his eyes and nodded, nails lightly running down James’ chest as his hips were forcibly lowered. “And has James been giving you cock all day?” Sherlock again nodded before his nails dug into James’ skin and he gasped, head falling back and eyes widening as he felt the head of John’s thick, weighty cock start to press into him. “And do you still want mine?”

“Y… yes…” Sherlock stammered as he was balanced between them. He looked up at James’ face, the other man looking down at him fondly, his hand resting on the back of Sherlock’s bound wrists as Sherlock tried to clutch at James’ sternum. He felt his heartbeat quicken, a startled gasp as he was brought down a bit further, only to be drawn back up again in one minuscule thrust. “Please, John?”

John smiled as he slowly guided Sherlock down, until he was fully seated in his lap. Sherlock pressed his forehead into his arms with a shuddering breath. He parted them slightly and licked his lips as his eyes fell onto the hard cock in front of him. He moved his hands down, and drew out a groan from James’ throat as he lightly clutched onto the base with his fingers and ran his tongue along the length.

“You brilliant, beautiful man,” James whispered, chuckling at the pleased moan that Sherlock responded with. When John began to move Sherlock’s hips, however, the detective lost focus, content to lap at the warm, velvet skin as John thrust upwards into him. James wrapped his own hand around himself and started to stroke as the tip pressed against Sherlock’s tongue. “You’ve been waiting for this all day…” Sherlock’s eyes darted back up to James’ face, groaning loud as John hit that spot inside him that made electricity dance before his eyes. He was pulled backwards, John’s teeth scraping against the shell of his ear before he groaned at the other man’s words.

“That true, love? Have you been waiting for me?” Sherlock temporarily lost all thought as he bounced along John’s lap, before he whined out another ‘yes’. “You cock hungry slut. I love you, you know that?” He pulled Sherlock’s chin towards him and met his lips with a searing kiss that lit Sherlock’s nerves like a fuse. He leaned into the touch of John’s lips to his temple, closing his eyes as John’s voice rubbed his exposed senses raw, making him choke down each answering moan, whine, and whimper. “You are my vulgar… sinful… seductive… spectacular… needy…” Each descriptive adjective was punctuated with another thrust to his prostate, “gorgeous…” John growled as he ground Sherlock’s hips to him eliciting a garbled cry. “Cock… hungry… slut.” The emphasis he put to the ‘t’ made Sherlock’s mind go blank and when he opened his eyes, he watched as ribbons of white spurt upwards, painting his own chest and James’ thighs. His orgasm wracked through his body until he doubled over, panting so hard his chest hurt. He felt his skin burn as he hung his head in shame, unable to hold off until his lovers came or gave him the command. He felt James tangle his hand between his fingers and squeeze, offering silent comfort towards Sherlock’s own embarrassment. John offered soothing whispers as salve to Sherlock’s wounded pride.

“Do you know how sexy you look when you come like that, Sherlock?” He peppered Sherlock’s shoulders with soft kisses before he whispered. “Now why don’t you tell us how you want us to come?”

Sherlock’s eyes widened a little at the sudden rush of possibilities but he settled on the only way he wanted this to go. “In… inside me. James… in my mouth and you…” He gulped down a moan and gasped as John began to move again, “Yes…” he hissed and closed his eyes. “Like that…”

There was a scraping noise as an ottoman was moved across the floor. Sherlock found himself balanced on his knees, hands undone and gripping James’ waist to keep him from tipping forward. He opened his mouth wide and whined as James grasped at his hair, John’s hands on his hips and the next thing he registered was the feeling of John slamming into him as James thrust into his mouth. His throat vibrated with his moans as his eyes rolled back and he lost all capabilities of thought. Everything fell silent around him and all he could do was feel as he was pounded from both ends. He felt suspended in his own pleasure, letting it wrap tightly around him as his lovers used his body for their own. He felt all those words that John had purred into his ears – vulgar, sinful, seductive, spectacular, needy – all of them pin to his skin and spread, painting his very soul, if there was such a thing.

It was the closest he’d feel of heaven, for that he was certain.

And as his lovers came inside him, warmed him from the inside out, filled him up and made him swallow; as they pulled out and caught him in their arms and held him and whispered wonderful things to him; as they hoisted him to his feet and carried him to the bathroom and set him down on the edge of the tub and wiped him down; as they gave him kisses and more ‘I love you’s – he knew. He knew that he could never give them up.

 

* * *

 

As Sherlock woke from what appeared to be a post-orgasm nap, he found comfort in a strong arm draped over his hip. He blinked slowly and smiled as his gaze was met by James, who offered a smile of his own.

“What time is it?” Sherlock drawled, voice crackly and raw as each and every sore portion of his body slowly made itself known.

“9:23. You’ve been out for a little over three hours.”

“Can’t be more specific?”

“Sadly, no. I wasn’t paying much attention to the time while I was dragging your bony ass to bed,” there was a loving peck to Sherlock’s forehead at almost lulled him back to sleep. “How are you feeling? Back in sync?”

“Close. Thank you. Where’s John?”

James hesitated for a moment and sighed as he brushed Sherlock’s bangs from his eyes and began to play with a small section of his curls. “He’s gone to get us food.”

“We can afford delivery. Does he not know that?”

“He does, but I think he just needed a walk.”

A short beat of silence as Sherlock pressed his lips tightly together. “So you told him… about the greedy thing.”

“Sherlock. I had to. You know this doesn’t work if we don’t communicate,” James sighed and brushed his thumb across Sherlock’s cheek. “I didn’t give him details though, that’s up to you.”

Sherlock scoffed. “Why?”

“Because I’m not your human telephone. Things tend to get messed up if they travel through a third party. We have to stay clear with one another. Otherwise all of this? It goes to hell. So he might come to you with questions. You answer them as you see fit.”

Sherlock began to trace nervous circles across James’ collarbones before another kiss landed on his lips, drawing him back. “Don’t retreat,” James insisted. “Please. Stay here.” Sherlock replied with a quick nod.

James sighed and rolled to his back, Sherlock’s ear pressing to his chest as he let the other man’s heartbeat fill his head. He closed his eyes and saw each beat trace across his eyelids like a phantom heart monitor. He was jarred back with James’ soft question.

“Why did you need this so badly today, Sherlock?”

With a long sigh, Sherlock propped himself up and looked down into James’ eyes, their gazes locking. “It had been a long dry period, James. That’s all.”

“Really…” James sounded less than convinced which made Sherlock break eye contact so he could slowly sit up. He winced as the stresses of the day made themselves very well known in his arse and he wound up shifting back onto his stomach again. He closed his eyes and groaned in appreciation as James’ hand began to kneed at his lower back.

“The long period of abstinence… was causing my body’s desires to manifest themselves in… various fantasies that were making me lose focus. I needed an intense session to… as you said… fall back into sync.”

“Did it work?”

Sherlock paused for a long moment before he nodded. “There are a few… desires that… may still need to be resolved but… this was a very good start.”

James tilted his head and raised an eyebrow, “Desires like what?” he asked, eager curiosity lacing his tone.

Sherlock cleared his throat before he rolled onto his side and pressed his lips tightly together. He opened his mouth but aborted his reply several times before he finally gave voice to his thoughts.

“Stretched out. Consumed. Filled to the brim. I asked you to ruin me, do you remember?”

“I do.”

Sherlock pushed himself back up so he was looming over James before their foreheads came together and Sherlock positively purred. “That wasn’t just talk, James. I want you to ruin me. I want it so bad it… it’s terrifying. And that should alarm me, make me scared… yet it doesn’t. It only makes me crave it more.”

James fell silent as the storm that built behind those piercing blue eyes, inside that wicked mind, began to surge and spark, spreading Sherlock’s desires straight into his own body as if his words conjured lightning that had struck James down and made him numb.

“We will… have to revisit that then,” he finally managed to whisper. “Another day.”

Sherlock only nodded as he dropped his James’ chest and closed his eyes, his exhaustion forcing him to close his eyes and fall asleep. James stayed there and held the other man, taking in the steady sound of Sherlock’s breathing as he slept. James finally lifted his head to see John, leaning against the door jamb, where he’d been standing for the last few minutes, and silently the two exchanged their looks.

Sherlock wished to be ruined – that was a whim they were going to have to revisit. In depth. And with enthusiasm.


	2. The One With The Toy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know. This took longer than anticipated.
> 
> No Beta. No Britpick. Minimal proofreading. But it's here. Enjoy!

James smiled as he felt John press his palms against his shoulders and kiss his hair before he hummed in appreciation. They’d brewed a pot of coffee and had spent the morning in relative quiet as they both puttered around their own morning rituals. Now they’d settled across from each other, John with the day’s newspaper, and James with a notebook and pen as Sherlock’s latest experiment took up most of the table space between them. It was only a matter of time before the peace of 221B was to be broken.

And with a rousing growl of frustration, at that.

“How could you let me sleep in!?”

John calmly took a sip of his tea and didn’t bother to look up as the long, gangly brunette came scrambling into the kitchen, naked if it weren’t for a untied dressing gown that still hung around his elbows. “We tried to wake you, but you just swatted at us and turned over,” John lifted his eyes to see Sherlock anxiously comb his fingers through sleep tousled hair as he fussed over the experiment spread across the table. “Calm down, Sherlock. James took notes when your timer went off.”

“Like that is sufficient! How could James possibly know the information that I…” he paused as James handed him the notebook before he flipped back several pages and skimmed through the information. “Oh. Well. These…” he paused as he continued to read and cocked his head slightly to the side. “Are actually rather useful.”

“Funny what years of military service will teach you.” Sherlock stared at him, his blank expression questioning James’ knowledge of the scientific significance of this particular bacteria growth. James sighed heavily, “I can report what I see, Sherlock. You’re welcome.”

“I don’t think he said ‘thank you’.”

“He came close enough,” James quipped as he stood up and pecked a kiss on Sherlock’s still distracted lips. It was enough to break Sherlock’s trance and he followed the break of James’ kiss to instigate one of his own – a deeper, more promising one – until James pulled back and chuckled. “Calm down. I have to finish getting ready.”

“Ready? Ready for what?” Sherlock turned to see James head back down the hall before he turned to look at John, who was already fully clothed. “Where are you going?”

“James has therapy and I have a short shift I need to work. We told you this…. You don’t remember…” John sighed as Sherlock shook his head and began to clutch at the buttons of his shirt. “Sherlock. You’ll be fine.”

“What if I get bored?”

“You’ll find something to entertain yourself, I’m sure.”

“Yes, but why do you both have to leave? At the same time?” Sherlock spun in place as John and James dispersed, heading in separate directions. “Why can’t James reschedule or you call off? Why does James even need therapy? You don’t need therapy.”

“Our circumstances were a bit different, Sherlock,” James remarked as he came up behind the immensely distressed detective and placed his hands on the other’s hips before pressing another kiss to the back of his head. “It helps. Now calm down. We’ll both be back in a few hours.”

John silenced any further complaints with a kiss to Sherlock’s lips, trying to coerce a smile from the visibly bothered man, he stepped back when Sherlock chased the break of the kiss and pressed a palm to Sherlock’s mouth before he smiled gently. “Don’t do any permanent damage. If Mrs. Hudson calls me crying again, there will be hell. You understand?”

Sherlock only rolled his eyes.

“Just promise, Sherlock,” James prodded at Sherlock’s side, getting a very exasperated ‘fine’ in reply. John and James both pecked Sherlock on the cheek and temple respectively before they withdrew and headed out the door, leaving behind a pouting – and very bored – detective.

 

* * *

 

John greeted James with a kiss as they both, miraculously, made it home mere minutes apart and met at the bottom of the stairs. He hung up his coat and nodded up towards the door to their flat on the second floor. “I don’t smell anything unnatural, so that’s a hopeful sign.”

“Well, don’t get those hopes up too high until we actually get inside.”

“It’s very possible that he could have found something productive…” John trailed as he nodded and sighed at James’ quirked eyebrow. “Yeah, okay,” he amended, “Let’s go see what he’s done.”

It was unnaturally quiet when they entered and Sherlock was no where to be seen – at least, not immediately. They both did a quick once over and saw nothing immediately out of place from when they left this morning, if one didn’t count John’s laptop missing from its usual resting place.

“Well. His coat is downstairs and his phone is right here, so –” They both shot a look towards the hall and the closed door at the end of it. John sucked in a breath and slid his eyes in James’ direction just in time to see the other man rub the back of his neck. “This could go… in an infinite number of directions.”

“An inherent hazard from loving him.”

John could only nod in agreement before he held up a finger and made a vague pointing gesture towards the bedroom. “Shall we then?”

James nodded and led the way, John close on his heals. They both leaned against the door, exhaling when there was no obvious sounds to clue them in on what they were about to walk into. They opened the door slowly and took it all one step at a time.

Everything seemed innocuous upon first impression, however an extended period of time under the same roof with Sherlock had proven that nothing was as innocent as it seemed. As it appeared, the bedroom was in the same amount of order it was in when they left it. The only difference was John’s laptop laying closed on the floor next to the bed and Sherlock, twisted in the blankets with his arm thrown over his eyes. It would be easy to mistake him as asleep if it weren’t for way his lips were parted and the staggered pattern of his breathing.

Both John and James froze in place, eyes fixed on the way the blankets moved with Sherlock’s body. They could see the vague shape of his arm, and knees; and the way his breath stuttered past his parted lips could fill in the blanks as to where exactly his other hand lay.

John was the first to regain focus, breaking his trance and walking to the edge of the bed. He leaned down and pressed a light kiss to Sherlock’s arm, smiling when it slid backwards and unveiled Sherlock’s glazed eyes to him. “Hey there, love.” He slid to his side next to Sherlock, pressing his palm lightly to the other’s chest and kissing his cheek. He tugged at the blanket lightly and whispered to Sherlock’s temple, seeking permission to reveal what was beneath. With another kiss to the lips, Sherlock nodded his consent with a painfully shy bite to his lip. John shot a look over his shoulder to see James had crossed the distance from the door to the bed and standing behind him before they both reached down and slowly pulled back the covers.

The sight caught both of their breaths.

Sherlock’s cock was hard and leaking, begging for contact and ignored. Instead, Sherlock’s hand rested further down between his legs, long fingers pressed against the base of an anal plug that filled and stretched him open. John and James both stared transfixed at the slight, minuscule shifts that drove the plug deeper within Sherlock’s writhing body, the way his hips jerked just barely and the slight quiver of his thighs as they were splayed out wide against the bed. They watched him for mere minutes before James caught Sherlock’s wrist and forced his hand away, drinking in his whimpered protests with a kiss.

Permission was sought out again – to touch instead of just look – and as it was given, Sherlock’s body was shifted and he writhed against their hands as they manipulated his pliant body between them. James settled behind him, his back against the headboard and Sherlock’s head to his shoulder. He’d looped his arms under Sherlock’s in a loose embrace that drew Sherlock further back into him, the fibers of James’ clothes pleasantly rough to Sherlock’s overheated and sensitive skin. Sherlock sighed and slipped further down, deeper into his own body, nerves firing at every slight bit of stimulation from the warmth of James’ body behind him, to the cool draft from the window against his front, to the light, lazy circles James drew with the tips of his fingers around Sherlock’s nipples. The light scrape of James’ fingernails caught the pebbled bits of flesh, causing Sherlock to fidget just enough to shift the plug inside him. And as it settled just right, he instinctively bucked upwards.

Until John’s hands caught him by the hips and pinned him down, making Sherlock suddenly very aware of the warm body between his legs.

He twisted and groaned a strangled cry at the first swipe of John’s tongue down the middle of his scrotum. His whimpers grew in volume as the warm, wet tip made a slow path up the underside of his neglected cock from base to tip and he fought against John’s grip the entire way. Two harsh twists to his nipples shot fire through him, and he slapped his own side in his struggle to pull John’s incredibly talented and enticing mouth away from the tip of his cock before his pleas began to find his voice.

“D… don’t,” he stammered through clenched teeth, blinking back tears from how tightly he’d closed his eyes, “I’ll… I’ll come. If you don’t… don’t stop.”

He sucked in a deep breath as John slowly slid up his body, eyes rolling back at the mild friction of John’s clothes brushing against his bare skin. His head fell back against James’ shoulder and he pressed his hands to John’s shoulders as the shorter man straddled him. “You don’t want to come?” The question was hot against his ear and made Sherlock blink back tears before he shook his head.

“Not.. Yeeee– ah!” He bit back a cry as John shifted the plug inside him, pulling at the base before pressing against it. Their lips crashed together in a searing kiss that heated both their bodies to boiling. A growled ‘why all this’ passed between John’s lips as they broke apart, punctuated by another twist that made Sherlock arch against James with a scream. He held his body stiff, fingers digging into the sheets as he tried to stave off his need to orgasm, the gentle touch of two pairs of lips against his burning skin easing him back down, despite the intense protesting throb between his legs. He wet his lips and swallowed, taking a moment to collect himself. Pushing James’ hands away from his chest, he leaned upwards to John’s ear. “I was getting ready for you. Both of you,” he whispered, dropping his voice to a seductive purr that visibly made the good doctor shudder.

John’s eyes shot to James and they exchanged looks before James sought clarification. “You sure, Sherlock?”

There was a weak nod before he verbally assured them both between labored breaths, “I trust you.” His eyes shifted between his two lovers as he watched those words weigh on their minds. John sat back on his heals and James absently traced random patterns across Sherlock’s sides where they’d come to rest, until Sherlock sought to speak again, fighting to keep some clarity despite the intense tension coiled tightly within him. “I want this,” he insisted – his tone cool, clear, and very firm. “I know you will take care of me,” He removed James hands and with a very careful and less than graceful swing to his legs and a few awkward shifts, he settled against James’ hips. He breathed heavily through his nose and gripped at the base of his cock to take off some of the edge.

His fingers brushed against the top of the collar of James’ shirt, the soft cotton luxurious to the touch. As he gently ran the tips of his nails across the expanse of James’ chest, he suddenly found his hands forced out from underneath him and his cheek pressed to James’ shoulder. He turned his head towards the crook of James’ neck and pressed his nose against the skin. He could smell James’ soap and a hint of his shampoo. The day’s warm temperature had been enough to cause the other man to sweat just enough to bring out his natural scent – mixing a sensual cocktail strong enough to intoxicate him.

“Hands against the headboard, Sherlock. No touching.”

Sherlock did as asked with a whispered ‘yes, Captain’. He shifted himself upwards just enough to grab the edge of the headboard, losing his grip when John started to work the plug out of his body. James caught his wandering hand in its venture downwards before it reached it’s destination.  
“He said no touching,” James lightly chastised between desperate kisses as Sherlock bit back his whimper.

“But Major… I…” There was a startled hiccup as two slick fingers circled his entrance. Blinking rapidly, Sherlock replaced his hand to the headboard as ordered and choked on his words when those fingers slid into the first knuckle, then to the second, and then scissored apart. The light scratching of nails against wood helped overcome some of the impending fog as Sherlock tried his best to keep his mind from how close he’d pushed himself – the heat and the tension unbearable and the discomfort prickled at the back of his neck and crept down his spine.

“You can hold on,” James insisted before leaning up and kissing Sherlock. He swallowed the detective’s groan as their lips parted and their tongues met. Sherlock’s elbows sagged and his breath hitched as the kiss crept along – sweet and slow – the hints of tongue with the texture of James’ lips against his own drawing him temporarily away from his current predicament before he became very aware of a fourth finger joining the rest in a way that made his shoulders lock and a shudder shoot upwards. Their kiss broke as Sherlock pried his lips away, his head slumping over James shoulder as he whispered nonsense in his ear. “John, he’s about to lose it.”

With some reluctance, John drew out his fingers, but not before giving a good twist that made Sherlock’s entire body buck. With a soft whisper to the shell of Sherlock’s ear, John coaxed him to sit up. As Sherlock settled back, he felt the bulge in James’ trousers rub against him in a way that made him jump with a rough groan. “Oh, love,” John huffed to the back of Sherlock’s neck, his hand reaching down and gripping Sherlock to try to buy them time. “You’re already so close. Are you sure about this?” He looked over Sherlock’s shoulder at the damp spot he’d left on James’ shirt from where he’d pressed against him. He felt the small nod, Sherlock’s curls brushing against his nose just so. He smelled of sweat and desperation and John was able to maneuver him easily with gentle nudges to his hips. “Beg me, Sherlock.”

The sob that tore through Sherlock at the sound of a zip being undone only grew in volume when he felt himself poised above the tip of James’ long cock. When he tried to rock back, John’s fingers gripped him firmly in place. He was vaguely aware of James slicking himself up with the lube John had passed to him. “Let me ride him, John.” He choked when the very tip pressed into him just enough to feel it. “Oh fuck…” His fingers curled tighter against the headboard as he fought the urge to let go and rock backwards – placing himself at John’s mercy as the word ‘please’ fell from him in varying tones of desperation. “Ple…gnk!” He fought the urge to collapse into the men on either side of him as John brought his hips down, his body drawing James into him with ease.

“Let go of that headboard, Sherlock – you’re coming by yourself. Do you understand?”

“Y… yes. Captain,” he tightened his grip for good measure before he dropped his body against James, folding his body close to man beneath him and closing his eyes as James’ hand rested against the back of his neck, a warm kiss to the edge of his jaw before the first thrust upwards drove deep into him and made his breath catch. “Fuck…” he sobbed as he scrambled to keep his hands in place, struggling to hold on despite the painful throb between his legs as his cock begged for attention. “Oh fuck!”

His exclamation punctuated the first of John’s fingers to join James’ cock inside him. John’s free hand reached around and he pressed his palm to Sherlock’s chest in a reassuring gesture. He hushed him gently and peppered light kisses along his shoulders, “It’s okay, love. I’ve got you.”

Sherlock answered John’s next line of questioning before the other man could form the words. “Keep going, John. Please, keep going.”

There was a soft grunt as John managed to work in a second finger, moving carefully with the gentle pace James had set. “God… how you haven’t come yet is a miracle… James gently hold him down.” John pulled back and withdrew his fingers before gently pressing Sherlock down against James as the other man wrapped his arm around him and held him close. Sherlock laid there, James still inside him, his erection trapped between their bodies, the smell and feel of James’ shirt riding the line of heaven and torture against his bare skin. “Relax.”

Sherlock nodded in compliance and took a few soothing breaths before closing his eyes. He heard another zip, the clatter of John’s belt, and he grimaced at the first sign of pressure – John’s tip pressing just above where James was buried inside him. It was withdrawn again and Sherlock let out a sigh, before it was returned, slick and warm and heavy.

If James hadn’t been holding him down, he’d have jumped as the tip of John’s cock first breached him. He still jerked within James’ hold, eyes snapping open as John slowly slid into him, stretching him further and driving James even deeper into him. Everything stilled and even the insistent pressure coiled inside him ceased for just a moment as everything seemed to pause – only to come crashing back all at once.

His hips moved on their own accord, grinding forward and then back in an eager rhythm. “Oh fuck me,” he exhaled in a breath, discomfort giving way to pleasure as the cacophony of pleas and needs fell silent and whittled down to one. “Fuck me hard.”

There were answering groans before he was swept up in an exchange of kisses – James gently holding his chin as his lips brushed against Sherlock’s in a series of sweet, drawn out kisses that pulled Sherlock away from the two cocks finding their rhythm inside him, while John pried Sherlock’s hands away from the headboard and gently cradled them in his own, locking their fingers together against the softer sheets.

As they found their pace inside him, Sherlock collapsed, his chin tucked against James’ shoulder. Their hips worked together, and Sherlock could barely catch his breath at being filled so thoroughly. The ghostly touch of John’s fingers against his ribs brought Sherlock out of his daze and he suddenly became aware of his own voice – short, quiet moans that rumbled deep within him and barely made it past his gritted teeth as they were chased by coarse and harsh sobs. He squirmed between them, eyes rolled back before he felt all that tension and pressure that twisted tightly around his insides and sent a red hot spike of electrical pulses straight through his body that fizzled to the ends of his fingers and toes finally hit its breaking point. And just as it was about to snap and spring loose, another harsh grab to his cock by John delayed it once again.

“Oh god,” Sherlock cried, tears streaking his face as he sucked in a calming breath. He was visibly shaking, practically vibrating between them as John and James continued to thrust into him. John gently hushed him, whispering in his ear.

“It’s okay, love. We’ll take care of you… but you’re so tight around us… if you came now… I don’t know if I could handle it.” Sherlock groaned at the way John emphasized the word ‘tight’, making the word sound sultry and downright filthy with a slight hiss and a thrust to punctuate his point. As Sherlock sucked in another sharp breath, James gently ran his fingers through his hair, whispering soft words of encouragement.

As they both got back up to pace, Sherlock was rendered to only soft grunts and soundless sighs. He closed his eyes as James and John grasped his hips and the two of them moved – mostly – in sync inside him. He was at their mercy, filled to the brim, stretched out, used and in absolute ruin – just as requested. And as he struggled, with ragged breaths, laid out raw between them, their lips brought a soft comfort from the overwhelming pleasure that threatened to eviscerate him. John laid gentle kisses along the heated skin at the back of his neck, while James’ traveled from temple to jaw to lips. Between said kisses, came the barely audible declarations of love and praises that soothed an inexplicable ache that had surfaced like blisters on Sherlock’s soul. Any doubt that nagged deep within Sherlock’s mind was slowly silenced.

He wet his lips a few times before he regained his voice, working the words out of his throat where they filled his mouth like coarse sand, falling forward as he parted his lips in a partial moan as John’s cock continued to push James’ right into his prostate. “Oh…” he shuddered and smacked his lips before he could actually speak again, “Am… am I good slut?”

“Oh, love…” their voices rushed across his ears, their words mixing together but equaling the same sentiment, “You’re perfect as both.”

Sherlock closed his eyes tight, fists clutched and twisted in the sheets as a violent sob punched through his lungs. Sweat dripped from his hairline down his forehead and he struggled to keep himself from bursting as the oxygen swelled in his chest. The pleasure of the two men inside of him, thrusting hard and deep, stretching him wide open, exploiting his most carnal of fantasies, was beginning to ebb – his body’s chemistry sending him into a high with the pain nipping at it’s heels.

The first signs of release were a relief – James coming inside him first with John following close behind. His name fell from both of them with a mix of “Fucking Christ”s and “Oh my God”s as they both paused, filling him up as promised. As John pulled out slowly, a single stream of come splashed against the small of Sherlock’s back.

Sherlock was eased backwards as James followed suit and they both hovered above him, showering his face and shoulders in kisses. Sherlock swallowed, huffing out a laugh as John purred against his temple, “You’re completely filthy. You know that?”

He didn’t get the chance to verbally reply, however, losing his voice as he was slid across the bed, head hanging over the edge as his legs were parted and the pulsing complaints of his cock were finally addressed with a warm mouth wrapping around it.

“Fuck!” The curse word tumbled out at a low volume, but Sherlock felt like he was screaming when a second pair of lips drew in the skin of his scrotum and began to suck on it. He pushed himself up on shaking elbows to look between his legs. He watched, fixated, as John and James alternated between sucking and teasing him with their tongues. John sucked on the head while James wrapped his mouth around the base, pressing his tongue firmly to the underside. “Fuck…” he repeated before he sank back down, throwing an arm over his eyes as he repeated the four letter word over and over like some vulgar mantra until the ‘f’ got stuck between his teeth and bottom lip and he found himself coming.

What John and James couldn’t catch with their mouths, splattered across their chests and cheeks and Sherlock’s stomach. As it finally subsided, Sherlock slumped boneless, nearly slipping off the bed, John and James saving him from a very graceless landing on his head. Instead, he fell against them, soaking up their warmth, their whispered praises, and their gentle touch. With a lot of effort, Sherlock wrapped his arms around James’ neck, as John embraced his hips. “You’re a mess. You need cleaned up.”

Sherlock murmured a very faint protest and James chuckled, “If we let you sit, you’ll start to smell.”

“Like the two of you. I like your smell.”

“Yes, but you’re going to get sticky and I’m not waking up to that.”

With another soft protest, John and James slowly got Sherlock to his feet, and with a lot of assistance from the other two men, Sherlock managed to limp into the adjoining bathroom.

 

* * *

 

Sherlock laid between John and James – clean, warm, and sore, but overall content. He watched the back of John’s head as he slowly became aware of his wandering touch, impishly grinning as John swatted his hand away with a groan. When Sherlock’s fingers persisted, he was quickly flipped to his back with well practiced precision, hands pinned above him as John straddled his hips in a fluid series of motions that Sherlock lost track of in his muddled state of mind.

“You want something?” John asked with a laugh, leaning down and pressing a kiss to cut Sherlock’s own laughter short.

“You’re hard,” Sherlock answered when they parted. He grinned and lifted his chin when John nudged it with his nose, dotting his neck with quick nips and kisses that were bound to leave light marks that would warrant the need of a scarf.

“Who’s fault is that?”

“James is hard too,” Sherlock noted, shooting a quick look over to the man laying beside him. “That’s not my fault.”

“I beg to differ,” James slurred before he cracked open an eye and smiled before he propped his head up on his palm. “That’s quite the view to wake up to.”

Sherlock could only manage a few short giggles before he arched a little towards the way John teased his skin. He hissed as his body’s aches reminded him of their existence and he whimpered from the pain. John kissed Sherlock’s forehead as James pushed his curls from his face, both of them expressing their concerns. “Still sore,” Sherlock winced as he fidgeted. He settled as he shifted his eyes from one man to another, grinning a little. “But… you two could still…” he trailed off a little with a bite to his lip as he rolled his hips suggestively. “I wouldn’t mind.”

Both men laughed and John pushed himself up to sit back onto his heels and shook his head. “No, I’m sure you wouldn’t.”

Sherlock propped himself up, “Is that terrible?” A blush was starting to burn on the back of his neck, which only furthered John’s mirth. He shook his head and smiled, putting Sherlock a bit more at ease.

“Not at all.”

The lack of a definitive ‘yes’ or ‘no’ towards Sherlock’s original suggestion still hung overhead, and with a few raps of his fingers to the sheets, and a quiet ‘yes Sherlock?’ from James, prompted Sherlock to further his request.

“I have always…” He paused and cleared his throat, slumping further back onto the bed, “…you know… wanted to watch James fuck you…” He punctuated his statement with a casual shrug and another press of his teeth to his bottom lip, watching as both of his lovers’ eyebrows shot up.

“Have you?” John spoke first, tilting his head back as he seemed to ponder that request for a moment. He hummed as he caught sight of Sherlock’s small nod in reply before he looked over to James, who shrugged, though his smirk spoke volumes. “I think that could be arranged…” He held up a finger just as Sherlock’s eyes brightened a bit – the detective’s emotions laid out bare for both John and James to see. “On two conditions.” He forced Sherlock to lay back down, hovering over him. “First. Hands to your side. If you touch without permission, then you’ll have to sit in the hallway,” Sherlock whimpered at the thought and pulled his hands close to his sides. “Second….” John pressed his nose up against Sherlock’s cheek before he whispered, “You use that science of deduction to tell James how I want it.”

Sherlock’s eyes widened and he shook his head, “John… I don’t know if I can…”

“I trust that you can,” John insisted and kissed along Sherlock’s neck, feeling him swallow nervously. “What’s your answer, Sherlock?”

Sherlock began to squirm a little before he asked in a small voice, “What if I’m wrong?”

“I am very confident that you won’t be. Those are my terms. Do you accept them?”

There was a long pause as Sherlock mentally weighed his options. It was very common for Sherlock to lose all thought during their sexual encounters – that was part of the point – but the offered challenge of channeling aspects of his work into their play was a very tempting proposition.

With a deep breath and a consenting nod, he gave his answer.

“I accept.”

“Good.”  
With a few creaks of the mattress, Sherlock focused up at John’s face, eyes raking across it as the other man pushed himself up onto his hands and knees.

“Well, Sherlock,” James spoke, having moved behind the man between them. “Where should I start?”

Sherlock sucked in a breath and curled his hands into his fists, pressing them further beneath him before he concentrated on the task at hand. He considered previously gathered data he’d gleaned from time with John – habits and words they’d shared in an intimate fashion before he slowly spoke. “Work him open…” he cleared his throat to strengthen it, “… with your tongue.”

“Off to a good start the – oh!” John’s head dropped forward and he closed his eyes at the first swipe of James’ tongue. The reaction was just enough to egg Sherlock on, bolstering his confidence to continue.

“Long swipes first…” he instructed, the symphony of John’s groans the confirmation that he needed that James was following instruction. “Press.. Press your thumb just below…” John’s hitch in breath brought a sly curve to Sherlock’s lips, his voice finding confidence in his words to wield them with more precision. “There. Now press the tip of your tongue inside…” He sucked back his own groan at the way John fought to keep from pleading – biting back words that would tip off Sherlock on what direction to go next. “He’s so good with his tongue, isn’t he, John?” Sherlock goaded lightly.

John grabbed the headboard with one hand to keep from collapsing on Sherlock in response. “You.. You know he issss… ah, God! James!”

Sherlock instructed James to rub a particular rhythm against John’s perineum that left John quivering to keep his balance. Sherlock watched the way John’s face contorted in pleasure, watched his lips move in soundless pleas, the way his lashes fluttered as even his eyelids tensed and relaxed over those deep blue eyes. He took pity on John’s struggle and gave the word. “Slick up your fingers, James… get him ready.”

On Sherlock’s command, James used his fingers (middle and ring) to finish preparing John. He indulged himself a little and drew it out a little longer than John may have needed, enjoying the way John’s body had begun to sink closer to his own. Each twist, each stretch, was meticulously worded with just the right amount of vulgarity to appease John’s taste for dirty talk.

“Yes, James… just like that… you certainly love the way he finger fucks you, don’t you John?”

With a snarl, John pressed his lips to Sherlock’s earlobe and nearly growled, “You know I do, you attention seeking slut….” He gasped when Sherlock gave the word for James to pull out his fingers and replace it with the tip of his cock. As Sherlock encouraged James to tease John’s hole, rubbing the tip of his cock against it in a way that made John nearly howl, he felt the moment John snapped, pinning Sherlock’s shoulders down with his palms as he looked down at the other man with a dark, vicious expression that made Sherlock’s heart jump and his cock twitch. He stammered, but only for a moment before he gave the proper word.

“Do it, James….”

The sneer melted from John’s face with that first thrust, and the pleasure that chased it was enough to make Sherlock hard. Sherlock looked above him, James sliding into John slowly. He wet his lips before he tried his best to speak in a level tone, though it shook slightly as his mind began to cloud.

“Tell me… tell me how his cock feels.” He wasn’t sure if the request was to the rules, but with a shudder and a groan, John obliged.

“It’s not... not too thick… nice and long…. And oh… oh feels so good sliding in…”

Sherlock nodded in agreement before he craned his neck to try to catch the look on James’ face. He saw a blissful expression, jaw dropped slightly and eyes soft and focused on the two men below him. Sherlock offered up a small smile that was returned between breaths before he settled back. “Grab his hips… and fuck him harder.”

John was dragged backwards, his ear resting against Sherlock’s chest as James complied, gripping his hips firmly and driving into John rapidly. Sherlock closed his eyes and sucked in a breath, laying his head back as he took in the audible sounds of James fucking John – the sound of skin striking skin with John’s answering ‘ah’s between them. He waited for the telltale pitch change in John’s voice that signaled he was on the brink of coming.

“Stop!” Sherlock timed it just as James sheathed himself completely into John, eliciting a guttural and helpless cry as John was pinned down against Sherlock’s body. “Slower… strong thrusts. Make him feel every inch…”

The answering moan reverberated against Sherlock’s abdomen and caused him to arch, but he pressed his nails hard against his palms to keep them in place. He knew this feeling well – James, strong and powerfully built, reaching so deep inside that Sherlock could swear he could feel it in his throat.

“Per… permission to touch, Sir…”

“Granted.”

Sherlock unfolded his hands and reached up to his chest, pressing his fingers to John’s scalp. He brushed against the short, soft hair, before finally lifting John’s chin so he could look in his face.

What he found was downright sinful – John’s irises stained ink black, his pupils blown out, panting with the tip of his tongue pressed just so to his bottom lip. His cheeks were traced with a decadent scarlet, and the filthy moans were choked in his throat before falling from his mouth with abandon. Sherlock was momentarily hypnotized by the man looking back at him – close to wrecked and absolutely gorgeous.

With a voice that felt like sandpaper to his throat, Sherlock reached to the depths of his vocal range and spoke: “Come. For James and I. Please, John. I want to see you come untouched. I can tell your cock is so hard. You’re so close, and James feels so good inside you…”

He hissed in surprise when John did exactly that, vaguely hearing James curse at the way John’s body tightened around him. Spurts of white painted Sherlock’s groin and thighs as John slumped against him.

It took them all a moment to regain their senses – a panting tangle of bodies, heady with overwhelming bliss. James was the first to move, pulling out of John and settling beside them. John remained where he lay, Sherlock sinking into the feeling of the other man against him, between his legs, accompanied by the solid body beside him. With great effort, John pushed himself up and rolled off to the other side. He struggled to stand and Sherlock murmured for him to stay.

“Be right back,” he whispered before limping to the bathroom for a damp flannel.

Once wiped down and clean, they settled again, pulling covers around them. They found their positions easily, molding to each other’s bodies. There was a kiss to Sherlock’s fingers before John asked, in softest of voices.

“How are you feeling?”

Sherlock smiled, kissing the back of John’s head. “Perfect.”

“And how is that mind of yours?” James ventured from behind him, lips brushing the hair on the back of Sherlock’s neck as he spoke.

“Quiet. Wonderfully still. _Perfect_.”


	3. The One With The Cameras

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long, guys. It was just... a lot. This isn't the longest of chapters, but it definitely carried the most weight to it. I hope you enjoy it none the less!
> 
> BIG HUGE NOTE - There is an IFFY dream sequence in this chapter. It is very short, but as a precaution I have labeled where it starts and where it ends with big bold "Start" and "End" and it is also in italics. If you are easily triggered, please proceed that portion of the story (it is close to the end and after all the sexy stuff) with immense precaution.
> 
> And as always - not beta'd, not Britpicked, and barely proofread because that's just how I roll.

The exact circumstances that lead them to their current situation started out with a quiet morning with John alone. He was off that day, James had therapy, and Sherlock had stayed all night at Bart’s, running a lengthy experiment that John failed to remember the details of.

John assumed that he would spend his peace trying to catch up with his blog postings. They had been severely delayed these past three weeks, between his own work schedule, James’ regular therapy sessions, and Sherlock’s constant need for stimulation as interesting crime in the city hit a prolonged dry spell. He should have known that he was sorely mistaken in this assumption.

He almost didn’t notice it – an icon for a video file labelled ‘John’s Eyes Only’ set only slightly askew from the rest on his desktop. John considered himself computer savvy enough to double check the properties of the file – just in case it was some malicious .exe file trying to pass itself off as something enticing. Instead, he found it to be fairly straightforward, a standard video file created one of the days he’d found his laptop in Sherlock’s possession. Of course. Well, given this added bit of information, he figured he may as well take the bait that his often mischievous lover had laid out.

He didn’t know exactly what he was expecting, to be honest, however what he found wasn’t exactly high on the list (though it probably should have been). Within the second of hearing that gravelly cry crackle across his laptop speakers, John jumped and slammed his laptop shut. It took a couple of added seconds for it to finally fall silent and he stared at it with alarm.

It was porn.

With a deep breath, John carefully crossed the sitting room floor and locked the door. Mrs. Hudson was out (to his relief) but he didn’t know when she would be back.

He could already feel his cheeks burn bright and he adjusted himself before decisively stepping back to his chair and settled back down in his seat. He hesitated a moment before he leaned over to where his laptop lay on the ottoman and opened it again. With a series of coughs to clear his throat and a rub to the back of his neck, John unlocked his screen and found the paused, blurred image of the video staring him in the face. After adjusting his volume, he pressed play again.

The video was roughly three hours long, and was often at awkward angles, but its source was undeniable. It took John less than a minute to recognize the clutter around the camera of the first clip and those gravelly cries that alarmed him to the video’s contents to begin with.

This wasn’t just porn – it was a sex tape – and one that he was going to be very familiar with.

He watched as the man splayed across the desk was dragged backwards and those gorgeous eyes of bright blue-gray drowned in a sea of black catch sight of the camera capturing the scene before it.

John gripped the half hard bulge in his jeans at the first groan of James’ name before those eyes were shrouded in dark brown curls. What the camera failed to catch, John could easily fill in with his mind’s eye – Sherlock, bent over the desk that was just paces away, getting fucked mercilessly from behind by James – and it was only the tip of the iceberg.

John skipped from one scene to the next, watching as the angle was shifted from two positions to the sitting room, one in the kitchen, and two in their shared bedroom, each cataloguing the lovers’ various sexual escapades that had transpired over the past month. He watched as he and James took turns fucking Sherlock against a variety of surfaces, as Sherlock took their cocks in his mouth and swallowed down their come. He watched as they stripped him down, bound him up, held him close and gave him kisses that were still imprinted on John’s memory and his lips. And then he watched as Sherlock spread his legs and touch himself with hushed whispers of their names on his tongue.

It was while he was so absorbed in the visual record of he and James both penetrating Sherlock at the same time that he failed to hear the click of the lock. He visibly jumped when he felt someone’s breath on his cheek, slamming his laptop shut instinctively before he closed his eyes and recognized the voice, leaning back against his chair as the musical notes of soft laughter filled his ears.

“Christ, Sherlock…”

“Startle you?”

The exact exchange that lead to Sherlock being slammed against the bedroom door as he tripped out of his shoes, his jacket bunched at his elbows as he tried to tear it off, and John’s lips to his was admittedly blurred, but it all came back with sharp clarity when John’s hand pushed into Sherlock’s pants, and the scene laid out before them was set up in crystal clear detail by a few suggestive whispers exchanged between them.

And that lead them here – in their bedroom, with the laptop and home-made porn abandoned. Sherlock was on his knees, stripped down to nothing but rope that criss-crossed his body in intricate knots that kept his arms and hands bound behind his back, wrapped around his thighs, and linked to his ankles to keep him in his current position.

John inspected his handiwork, a soft hand through Sherlock’s hair as he checked the last knot and a kiss to Sherlock’s temple before the detective quietly assured him that he was fine. With a breath, John retreated a few paces backwards to the camcorder mounted on a tripod at the end of the bed and watched as Sherlock’s eyes dragged to the blinking red indicator light. John cleared his throat.

“Sherlock Holmes – are you aware that the following interrogation will be recorded?” He was answered with a soft ‘yes’ “And you consent to being questioned?” Another ‘yes’. “And you are aware that you can refuse to answer any of the following questions without needing any further explanation?” Yet another ‘yes’. “Then I suppose we can begin…” John trailed as he looked through the viewfinder.

He watched as the camera forced itself into focus on Sherlock’s face as the beautiful bound man parted his lips in anticipation. John cleared his throat, forcing himself to think clearly. He couldn’t get distracted.

“Why’ve you been like this, Sherlock? What’s going on?”  
He didn’t mean to lead with that question, but it was the heaviest one on his mind – so it stumbled out first. His throat tightened as the distant look glossed over Sherlock’s eyes snapped harshly into the calculated glare that he often sported when faced with a case. “No. That’s not what this is for and you know that.”

A pang of guilt dropped into John’s gut before he stepped back from the camera and ran a hand through his hair “Alright…” he sighed before he took the few needed steps to reach the end of the bed so he could look Sherlock in the eye. “You’re right. Let me try again?”

Sherlock looked at him skeptically and raised a eyebrow. The spell was broken, but John was determined to cast it again. It would take a skilled hand and a bit of groveling on his part, but John was certain he could draw them back into the scene as it was intended. “Please, Sherlock?” John ventured gently as he kneeled onto the bed. “Let me try again…” he repeated, pressing his palm against Sherlock’s exposed length, catching Sherlock’s bottom lip between his teeth just as the other man began to hiss in pleasure.

As John gently nudged Sherlock up into his lap, the slack of the rope tightened as his thighs parted, pulling back on his arms and making him arch just slightly. Sherlock made a show of rolling his eyes, a ghost of a smile on his lips, “I don’t know if you deserve the chan…” his protest was bitten off at the end as his bare erection was ground against John’s still clothed form, “ssss… fine!” Sherlock relented with a groan just as John’s fingers dug into his backside to spread his cheeks. With a quick exchange of looks, Sherlock confirmed his consent again. “Ask your question…”

“How many cameras, Sherlock?”

“Five.” Sherlock jumped, the sudden jut of his hips pulling his thighs tighter and causing his back to straighten and curse to blurt outwards against John’s forehead – John’s newly slicked finger pressing just barely to the tightly furled muscle, lightly rubbing against it in a maddening rhythm that made Sherlock moan.

“Where are they?” John’s voice had shifted from the gentle pleading tone into the authoritative grumble that sent shivers up Sherlock’s spine before he ducked his head down and purred his answer into John’s ear.

“One… in the kitchen… two in the sitting room… and two in here.”

Sherlock was rewarded with a finger pushing inside him and the sweet words ‘good man’ against his ear. John was rewarded by a satisfying clench around his exploring digit and heavenly whimper breathed into the crook of his neck. And all too soon, it was all withdrawn and Sherlock was deposited back on his knees, leaning forward as John pulled away, the soft touch of the back of his fingers against Sherlock’s cheek reassuring him that he wouldn’t go far. John moved back behind the camera, checking the focus again, chest clenching at Sherlock looking just a bit more rumpled than he did when they began.

“And how many times have you let James fuck you in the past four weeks since this little game of yours started? Do you remember?”

Sherlock pressed his lips into a tight line, eyes fixated on John’s fingers deftly working open the plaid shirt he wore. “I… yes,” he swallowed as his voice cracked just slightly, sending his pitch a bit higher than normal. “Six… no.. seven times.”

“And how about me? How many times have you let me fuck you?”

“Six…”

“I suppose I’ll have to even that out then…” John murmured before he shrugged out of his shirt and tossed it aside. “And how many times have you sucked James off?”

“Three times….” Sherlock swallowed again as John repeated ‘and me?’, the slow burn creeping up to his cheeks causing him to drop his chin a little.

“Ah ah…” John corrected, “Chin up, Sherlock.”

“Also… three times…” Sherlock answered as he lifted his head, eyes fixating on the camera lens before he wet his lips with his tongue. “I’ve swallowed your come three times, John.”

The brief sound of John’s rich laughter filled Sherlock’s chest with a tight pressure that threatened to choke him until he remembered to breathe. Words that sounded sour and sharp to the ill trained ear were soothing as John’s soft whisper delivered them.

“You’re just my little cock-hungry slut, aren’t you Sherlock?”

“Yes, John.”

His eyes shifted downward as he saw John discard his jeans and pants, lips parting as his mouth began to water. His thighs shifted, drawing his arms back again as he tried to make himself look as inviting as possible.

“Is that what you think about when you touch yourself, Sherlock?”

“Yes…”

“Give me details.”

Sherlock licked his lips as he suddenly felt parched, stare fixed on the shadows cast against John’s naked form as he tried his best to fill in what he couldn’t see from memory. “I… love how your… your thick cock feels against my tongue and… down my throat… I suck on my fingers but… it doesn’t feel the same. They aren’t… as warm and the weight is wrong….” He trailed a little before he shifted forward slightly at seeing John approach him again, “And… none of the toys I have are quite the right shape for either of you… I…” he closed his eyes as he felt John’s weight shift the bed behind him and fell forward as John released the knot that kept his wrists linked to his ankles. “Nothing feels the same…” he admitted finally as he let himself sink against the bed, John’s palms on either side of his head. John stayed there, not touching him, merely hovering over his body. They stayed like that for several minutes, suspended just above barely grazing each other’s skin before Sherlock finally broke, “Oh god, John… please just fuck me.”

Sherlock’s eyes rolled back when he was hoisted back up, thighs spread against John’s. And he lolled his head forward, eyes back on the camera that watched them so passively, recording their every move. He thought of where he would keep that SD card – stashed away from prying eyes – before his thoughts fizzled away as John’s cock breached him.

As he rocked his hips, precious obscenities flew from his lips and he could feel John smile against his temple. He looked downwards as John’s thumb brushed against his nipple, teased it into a hard, tight pebble and plucked it with his nails before his hand strayed further down and gripped his erection.

Each thrust upwards pushed Sherlock into John’s fist and Sherlock stared transfixed as the tip of his own dick breached the tight ring John made with his thumb and index finger. The pad of his thumb pressed against the tip, smearing precome across the head before it was offered to Sherlock. He took it between his lips and sucked, closing his eyes and wrapping his tongue playfully around the digit before it was withdrawn from his mouth.

“Bratty little show-off,” John’s growl lost a bit of its edge that he accentuated with a soft kiss underneath Sherlock’s ear. He paused when he felt Sherlock’s hands twisting between them, pulling at the ropes and shifting the knots. “Uncomfortable?”

Sherlock paused, hesitating to answer before John gently prodded again, “Sherlock?” The younger man’s head fell a little before he nodded and gasped as John pulled out. There was a soft apology but it was instantly rebuked as John began to undo the knots, “Don’t you dare apologize,” he whispered as the ropes fell away. He turned Sherlock onto his back and brushed the wild curls from his eyes. John’s heart thudded against his chest as he stared down at Sherlock’s face, the man beneath him going pliant and limp, his chin tilted back as he seemed to refuse to meet John’s gaze. “We should stop…” John conceded, lifting himself up to go turn off the camera before a firm hand grabbed him by the hip and a knee hooked around the swell of his arse.

“Don’t go… John. I’m still…” Sherlock’s eyes darted downwards for a moment before he pushed himself up onto his other elbow. “I’m still craving your cock… your come to fill me up… please. Don’t stop, John. Pin me down and fuck me.”

John’s gaze darted across Sherlock’s face for any sign of uncertainty – only to find determination. With a swallow and a snarl, John gathered Sherlock’s wrists in his grip and pinned them on either side of his head. “I do this… you tell me what’s happening with you.”

“Don’t try to bribe me, John.”

“Then don’t shut down on me, Sherlock.”

With a growl and a grind upwards, Sherlock relented with a muttered ‘fine’ before a minuscule smile twitched at the side of his mouth. John answered it with a wider smile of his own before he leaned down and kissed the man writhing beneath him – a sweet and sincere and lovely blend of love and lust in a mere brush of the lips. “You’re so good to me,” he heard Sherlock rumble before he gasped as John slid back into him. “So… so good to me… both of you…”

John smoothed Sherlock’s curls with his cupped hands before he pressed another kiss to Sherlock’s face before being coaxed back down to those beautiful lips and lingered again. He felt each gasp catch behind Sherlock’s teeth. Their noses lightly bumped as John pulled back just enough for a breath. The soft, breathy moans coming deep from Sherlock’s throat was intoxicating. John wrestled long, winding arms that wrapped around his shoulders, prying fingers that threatened to mar his skin with purple bruises from his back and with a soft yet satisfying thump, pinned them back down to the bed.

“Just remember that, Sherlock Holmes…” John whispered just as Sherlock’s head fell back and a soundless cry parted his lips. “I would… we would… do everything… I’m being serious…” He paused in his rhythm, keeping himself sheathed completely inside. His chest was heaving as his face fell to the crook of Sherlock’s neck, breathing the other man in like oxygen before he gasped out his confession. “All we want… is to be good to you. To… take care of you. That’s why we’re here…” He hauled them both back up as he slid out again, sitting back on his heels, his hands resting in the small of Sherlock’s back as their lips found each other again, tongues slipping into each others mouths, tasting each other – tastes that mingled into nothing discernable except for maybe bitter coffee with the faint touch of cigarettes.

He felt Sherlock’s chuckle start to bubble to the surface – dark and bittersweet like smooth, expensive, and decadent chocolate – before John found himself backed up against the headboard, Sherlock straddling him again with hands on either side of his head. “Then take care of me, John Watson.”

And as John twisted Sherlock’s hair and muttered slut into his ear to his delight…

…as Sherlock clawed at the headboard with white knuckled abandon…

…as they met each other and pulled away in a rapid and licentious rhythm of skin against skin…

… as they came crashing together…

A camera stood silently at the end of the bed, bearing witness to sweet sin and even sweeter release and relief and sighs and smiles, collecting it all, and storing it away to memory.

 

* * *

 

James returned home to find the loves of his life sharing a bed in the nude – John was propped up among the pillows with Sherlock nestled between his legs with his cheek pressed to John’s thigh. He watched as John stroked Sherlock’s hair for a moment before he took a step into the room, shrugging out of his jacket and pulling it off one arm at a time. “Looks like you two had fun while I was gone…”

John chuckled in a slightly filthy manner before he nodded, “A bit… yeah. How was your appointment?”

James waved off the answer. “Nothing groundbreaking. Tell me what happened here.”

“Go see for yourself…” John gestured to the camera that now lay dormant at their feet. James raised an eyebrow before he scooped it up and rewound the footage. There was a low whistle as he watched a portion of it with Sherlock coming all over John’s hand as he bounced along his lap. James shook his head and stopped it. “I definitely missed quite a bit…” He trailed a bit before he leaned over Sherlock and pressed a kiss to the man’s pale shoulder, rousing him from his daze. “Hey.”

Sherlock craned his neck a little to meet James’ lips with a kiss of his own before dragging the man in bed with them. James caught himself with his good arm and laughed a bit at the way Sherlock clung to his chest and took a deep breath. “You smell like soap and coffee…. And you.” James’ laughter was deep and gravely and made a shiver shoot straight up Sherlock’s spine before it fizzled outwards to each of his limbs and made his toes curled. “I missed you this morning.”

“Oh yes, I’m sure you did…” There was another quick kiss, followed by a harsh nip to James’ bottom lip before drawing him in. John shifted upwards as he watched the two men kiss between his legs. He watched as the quick pecks drew out longer and longer and they lapped into each others’ mouths in a sensual and amorous make-out session that shot hot spikes through John’s already protesting body.

As Sherlock broke the kiss, he leaned his head back and pressed his tongue along the underside of John’s length, sliding across the warm velvet skin with a needy groan.

“Holy shit…” John rasped, digging his nails into his own palms as his head fell back with a soft “thunk” against the edge of the headboard. When he looked back down, Sherlock had turned over onto his stomach and had the tip between his lips. John’s hand tangled into Sherlock’s hair before he gasped again and bucked his hips gently as the detective’s name slipped from his tongue in quiet, raspy syllables. “You…” John wet his lips and swallowed the thick lump forming in his throat. “Fuck… you brilliant… beautiful… man.” His grip remained gentle as he lifted Sherlock’s head, biting his lip as his cock was pulled free from Sherlock’s mouth with a loud slurp. Sherlock’s dazed gaze shifted upwards before he was hauled up to his knees and sandwiched in between the two men.

Sherlock leaned against John’s shoulder as his body was pressed against bare skin on both sides, feeling lips brush against his shoulders and neck, his cheek and the shell of his ear. He looped his arms underneath John’s and slotted their bodies together, his knees on either side of John’s hips as he felt James’ chest press against his back. They stayed that way – locked in a desperate embrace as they tried to merge with one another through skin contact alone – the minutes of intoxicating closeness clouding up all of their heads to the point of useless sluggishness before they jerked back into consciousness like drowning men breaking the surface of black waters.

As Sherlock refocused, he felt John’s hands on his face, strong and lightly calloused fingers pressed against his cheekbones, bringing their foreheads together. “We love you,” he felt more than heard John breathe the words against his lips. “We’re desperately in love with you. I can’t possibly begin to explain how much. The devil himself would have to pry us away from you.”

Sherlock floundered a bit on words he hadn’t even realized he’d been speaking before finally settling on the only possible response, “I love you, too.”

Their grips on each other were loosened and Sherlock reached back and ran his palm across James’ cheek as he felt the other man’s chin press lightly against the crook of his neck. As he lightly scratched at James’ jaw he uttered in a hushed voice, “I love you both so much…”

James smiled before he reached between Sherlock’s legs and brushed against John’s fingers as their hands met around the length of his cock. Sherlock’s hips jerked a bit and he groaned, their hands sliding along him in a delicious friction that was so alarming it made his thighs try to tighten. Just as Sherlock’s legs curled upwards and his knees threatened to meet, John released his grip and caught his knees with his palms and kept them apart.

Sherlock’s hands balled into fists as they were suspended over his head, unsure suddenly where to go as his head fell back and his breath lumped into his throat. They all held still for a minute, John and James paused mid movement before John finally pulled away. “Move to the side of the bed,” he rasped before he kissed Sherlock quickly on the lips. “I want to suck your cock.”

Sherlock blinked a few times, limbs wooden as John started to pull him into place. He closed his eyes, arching his back as he was settled on James’ lap and John moved between his legs that hung off the side of their bed.

When John’s lips wrapped around the head of his cock, James’ hand wrapped around the shaft, and all of Sherlock’s thoughts hissing through his teeth as they escaped his mind. He felt suspended between them, with a floating sensation tugging at his limbs in the same way pins prick at your extremities as they begin to go numb. He chanced a look downward and groaned to see James tugging at his length as if trying to milk him into John’s eager mouth. Sherlock nearly choked again at the almost cruel teasing of John’s tongue against the weeping tip before popping it back between his lips with a crude slurp.

“You know this is his favourite thing to do to you, don’t you? He loves sucking on that beautiful cock of yours. Not that I blame him…” James whispered to the shell of Sherlock’s ear, sending a series of shivers straight down Sherlock’s spine, “You look positively breathtaking when you’re trying not to come right away.” Sherlock sucked back a near sob, his curls tickling James’ cheek as he fought against the urge to thrash and buck his hips. “Shh…” James hushed, eliciting another guttural noise deep from Sherlock’s throat as he pulled his hand away and allowed John to take more of Sherlock into his mouth. He grunted a soft ‘no’ as Sherlock started to grind back against him in a wordless and eager plea to be fucked. “You’re exhausted,” James insisted, “Just let us take care of you…let John swallow down your come…we can take care of ourselves.” Another quick kiss, this time to Sherlock’s jaw before he reached back down and started to fondle Sherlock’s balls.

Sherlock was having a hard time keeping quiet, his hands gripping at James’ thighs in desperation as he bit down on his lip. “We’re not in the army anymore, Sherlock… you can make noise now…” The encouragement uncorked a number of sinful sounds from moans and gasps to deep, husky hums that vibrated deep in his chest and each man’s name injected intermittently through the debauched din.

When he came, it shot straight down John’s throat and the man on his knees dutifully swallowed all he could. As he pulled back, a few thick beads dripped down his chin before he wiped them away with the back of his hand. Sherlock sunk down to the floor when James released him as if his bones had melted and pooled downwards. He managed to grip onto John’s hips as the other man stood, smoothing his thumbs along his iliac crest before nudging at the underside of his erection with the tip of his nose.

John raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly to the side as he looked down at Sherlock, “And what are you doing?”

“Returning the favour,” Sherlock whispered before he wrapped his lips around the tip. John bit back a moan as he looked down and watched Sherlock get to work, all the while twisting his body slightly to the side so he could reach over and take James in his hand.

“You brilliant man,” John whispered as he reached down and dug his nails lightly into Sherlock’s scalp. “You beautiful and brilliant man…” He hissed as Sherlock pulled back to press a close mouthed kiss against the tip of his penis before flicking his tongue against it and sucking it back into his mouth, engulfing the entire head between his lips before bobbing his head downwards.

His fist moved clumsily along James’ cock before the major placed a hand over his and started to guide it in a more fluid motion. Sherlock extracted himself from John just long enough to give a long lick to the length. He gasped, near startled, when James came, hitting the roof of his mouth before splashing onto his cheek, and trailed down along his collarbone. He drank in what he could before turning just in time to catch the start of John’s release that followed soon after, whatever he missed dripping an obscene milky white path down his chin and neck.

Running a tongue along his bottom lip, Sherlock sucked it in between his teeth and leaned forward to press his forehead to John’s hip as the other men panted softly above him. Fingers in his errant curls caused him to close his eyes and drift before he was brought back to his feet and lured into bed before he was wiped clean.

The soft words between John and James – a pleasant hum of dulcet tones – as they spoke about the day, about him, about each other, helped lull him into a sleep he’d desperately needed. He vaguely recalled John whispering to him, ‘Are you awake, love?’ and softly grunting in reply, the soft laughter that followed, and the lingering ‘I love you’ that whisked him into a proper slumber.

 

* * *

 

**Start**   
_Sherlock roused to the feeling of bare skin beneath him – warm and smooth and pleasant. Darkness flooded his vision despite blinking repeatedly. Obviously, he must still be dreaming. He groaned appreciatively at the distinct feeling of palms sliding up his sides as warm breath hit the back of his neck. “John… James…” the familiar names felt so comfortable, instinctual, parting his lips before a cold, clammy grip jarred his teeth like a steel bit being forced under his tongue, two pairs of fingers digging harshly into the sides of his cheeks, contorting his mouth. The presence behind him, just a moment ago providing a level of familiar fondness hit his back with a weight that forced the air from his lungs, a tight grip to his throat catching any attempt for it to be replenished. Terror doused his body as the darkness began to twist, black on black, like tendrils writhing around him. Suffocating, cold, and frightened, Sherlock choked on his own screams that he couldn’t even draw air to form. “What did I tell you, Sherlock?” rasped the calm, steady voice that drenched his already panic stricken body, “Don’t. Be. Greedy.”_   
**End**

 

An unnatural sound caught between a scream and a growl jerked Sherlock awake as he bolted up in a cold sweat. In his hazy, sleep addled brain, he barely registered that the sound that woke him came from his own lips. It took the moment for him to calm his own breathing before he realized that John and James were speaking to him. He blinked back a few tears before curling over his knees once the realization of a steady supply of oxygen had fully registered.

“Fine…” he huffed, slicking back his own hair as he closed his eyes tight, seeking the shreds of comfort the points of warmth emitting from John’s and James’ palms pressed to his back provided, “I’m fine. It was just a dream,” he assured – though if it was for him or for them, he wasn’t entirely sure.

He fell back with them, sandwiched in their arms and breathing in their combined scents as he clung to them the best he could, lying on his stomach with his arms linked with their elbows. When that position became unbearable, he finally turned to face John first before rolling over to look at James. “I promise, I’m fine.”

John started to scratch at the base of Sherlock’s neck before sliding closer to him and embracing him from behind. “Can we talk about what’s happening with you now?”

Sherlock forcibly removed himself from both of them, sitting up and sliding closer to the foot of the bed. He vaguely heard James’ questioning ‘Sherlock?’ before he held his breath for five seconds and exhaled.

“I can’t stop thinking,” he finally admitted, fists to his mouth before he stretched his fingers across his eyes. “I try… I try… but it always comes whirring back just like before… before I met you two.”

John frowned at the admission, slowly trying to wade through the words before he finally probed further, “Are… you saying you’re… what? Getting bored of us?”

“No!” Sherlock whipped around to fast he winced, the frantic tone still ringing around them. “No…” he insisted, though much more hushed. “Never,” he added with finality. “I’m… afraid. The things he’s said – the mystery man – he’s… infected my thoughts and I’m so scared…” He curled up on himself, suddenly reminded of his nudity, resting his chin on his knees as he shifted his gaze from one man to the other. “I’m scared of losing you, of you leaving me… and… and I can’t stop _thinking_ …”

“Hold on…” James sat up as he rolled the admission around in his brain for a moment before finally asking, “Why would you be afraid of us leaving you?”

The question rung through the room and struck Sherlock still. He slouched, his legs falling to the sides and he closed his eyes. “You have John… and John has you… you two had a barely concealed romantic interest in one another before you even knew who I was. I just… I just became a catalyst for the inevitable…”

“Now wait, no… stop right there,” John interrupted, voice firm and sharp, drawing Sherlock up a bit straighter as he instinctively shifted his shoulders back. “Whatever did or did not start in Afghanistan between James and I and whether you were involved in that – that doesn’t change a damn thing. We are here. With you. We tracked you down after five _god damn_ years – and it wasn’t because of James and I being in a relationship and it wasn’t for the sex – it’s because we wanted _you_.”

Sherlock’s bottom lip trembled as he stuttered, trying to process that and finish his previous thought at the same time, which he eventually stammered out “… I… didn’t know where I… fit…”

Two hands grabbed him on either side and turned him around, forcing him to sit back between them. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath as arms enveloped him.

“You idiot…”

“… you fit right here…”

Sherlock’s laughter was near soundless as relief washed across him while his face was peppered with kisses before all three of their lips met in a clumsy kiss. He leaned his head back as John and James rested their heads on each of Sherlock’s shoulders and they stayed this way for a long moment, just taking in each other’s warmth. He looked down to see all of their hands twine together in their lap before he swallowed back an odd lump in this throat that threatened to evolve into a sob.

“I won’t let anyone hurt either of you…” Sherlock’s voice cracked a bit and he pressed his lips tight together in a desperate attempt to keep himself together. “I won’t,” he repeated it with the conviction of an oath, the remnants of his nightmare still crawling around in the back of his mind. He brought their knuckles to his lips and kissed each one before they all slid back down and settled into bed.

“You’re not alone in this, you know… this case,” James remarked and he vaguely felt a very weak nod from Sherlock. “Sherlock, if this person is threatening you… us? We… we take care of it together.”

John quietly agreed and added for good measure, “You don’t fight these things alone anymore.”

Sherlock smiled in spite of himself before he whispered his genuine agreement.

They were right, after all – it wasn’t just him, now. From now on, it would always be ‘they’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there you have it! The much awaited end to part 7.
> 
> Now please, do not panic - this isn't the end of the series itself. There WILL be more! However, I feel it might be a good stopping point for me to take a bit of a rest and reorganize the priorities of my writing projects, maybe put a bit more focus on something else (Gilmorelock, I'm looking at you)
> 
> Or, I could just be lying and I still update this mostly because I just can't quit Joltolock to save my life.
> 
> Toodles!


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